Dear besties,
Let’s bypass the whole “I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while” spiel. You and I both know I have more important things to do than write blog posts, like pick my toenail lint while waxing philosophical about geopolitics. And I know you have more important things to do than read what I write, like trim your grandmother’s beard. So I’m going to dispense with all that nonsense about not having posted anything in a while. Instead, I’m going to get right into the story.
I was recently in Philadelphia visiting Pigpen before heading to Pittsburgh to see my family humans. While in Philly, we lodged with Pigpen’s friends in a tony little hamlet on the Mainline called Merion Station. The couple and their house were perfect. They had chard growing in their front yard and a pergola covered in some climbing vine. The lady of the house- we’ll call her Tiny- gave us a tour of their abode when we arrived. There’s nothing I like more than being reminded of the fact that despite my advanced age, I’m only just playing at being a grown-up. See, real grown-ups have houses and mortgages and guest bedrooms and offices and juicers and refrigerators full of food and drink. I have none of these. I have a mangy dog and cheap drywall and stairs that lead to nowhere. But I’ve got my health.
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