While You Were Away

(July 14, 2001)

The first thing I noticed when I got home from work yesterday was that the cats all sidled over to greet me. Even Chloe. Chloe, who we call "the little slut" because she trades in her usual look of wide-eyed disdain for bedroom-eyed slinkyness around men, is really more Hub's cat. Because he's got the penis and all. She'll allow me to cuddle her in a pinch, but she dotes on Hub like you wouldn't believe. The second thing I noticed, on the kitchen island cutting board, was a note weighted down by a nectarine. While eating the nectarine, I read the note. No, the note did not say 'do not eat nectarine.' It was six phone numbers: three under "Geoff" and three under "Z." Home, work, mobile. Oh yeaaaahhh...I remembered...Hub's got the bachelor party this weekend. He took the bus to New York.

It's not until one of us has to go out of town that the other realizes how smoothly we pair up on taking care of...stuff. For example, whenever I'm planning a trip Hub says, "You can't go. The plants will die." Which is a weak example, because Hub's better at taking care of the plants than me.

When he's gone, there's stuff that doesn't get done. It's not even stuff like taking out the garbage or lifting the five gallon Belmont Springs water jug onto the cooler. I do both of those things all the time. It's stupid stuff like...well, I'm drinking a piss-poor cup of coffee right now because I can't make coffee to save my life. Then of course there's the complicated LAN he's set up between his computer, mine, and the server. When it goes offline it takes me an hour to reset everything.

And then there's driving directions. It's funny how people are good at some stuff but suck at others. I don't know if I mentioned, but I suck at finding my way around in the car. I can do lots of useful things. Like plan a sit-down dinner for nine in five minutes, sponge-paint the living room in an hour, design a web site in day, coordinate a cross-departmental process in a week-- but I panic the minute I have to say whether Somerville is north or south of Boston.

So sans Hub, last night I took a cab to The Linwood, because I haven't figured out Storrow Drive yet. It curves a lot, moves very fast, and kind of funnels you so you have to know what lane to be in at all times or your intended trip to Kenmore dumps you off in Government Center.

Oh, the show? Wolf's new band, Blow? Okay, I don't smoke nor do I drink hard liquor-- but that band made me want a cigarette and a shot of whiskey after. Bluesy, gritty, sweaty rock. It's Wolf so there's no bass but lots of sexy groove, and it's Chilly so there's no fucking apologies.

Hey, there's the intro of my review.