I think pretty soon all of my care and feeding will pass to Daniel, who is really good at choosing a nice wine, a big blanket and a whole stack of records and taking me by the hand up to his bed where we gossip and lounge and listen and snooze and be existentialist nobodies.
Today he also went back downstairs for chocolate, because every slow song or hard question made me cry and frankly I think I need a vacation.
This ran on for three hours straight until I was piss drunk at four in the afternoon and both Ben and Schuyler were starting to complain about the lack of participation by either of us in the day, proper.
Not like we actually cared, but for the sake of everyone else we finally emerged, weebly-wobbly and full of lyrics and showmanship and sugar and booze.
Makes it really hard to make dinner though. But I did.