The Mistress has needs too
I walked Bean late in the day and arrived at the LaLa just as K was pulling out – why he is working on Sunday is beyond me. But whew, I dodged that bullet. I feel like he holds my house hostage. I went inside and he had trimmed out the two clerestory windows and framed one window in the kitchen. Seemed like a long time to just get these things done.
The window manufacturer in California sent me an email the windows are being shipped tomorrow – woo hoo! Now to get the glass man to finally call me back with a price and place the order. The roofers got derailed on a large slate tile job uptown, I’m waiting for their lull to get them here – because I don’t want to sheet rock until there is some kind of closure.
I went over to N’s afterwards – Thad was filming the Snake voicing over his poetry written during and after Katrina. L was there to do some voice overs too. I haven’t seen L in a while – I haven’t been getting up early to walk the Bean – and it impressed me again how handsome a man Gomez actually is. Anyway, we had a good exchange, having been distant with each other lately. He’s coming to the commemoration, which is a good thing, since this is all about healing.
On the way home, V was sitting outside her house having a beer and watching a tiny television. Her legs were slick with bug spray and she offered me some so I sat down with her for a bit. She said her beau of 16 years had changed – having lost his house, his job, everything cause of Katrina – he had turned to his family for comfort and shut V out – she said it was the first time in 16 years that she actually realized her place – as the mistress – and she knows all she has been losing and lost.
She also said she hopes L and I get together and I said, we’re friends is all. L lives directly across the street. She said he was going inside to call me when she saw him last and sure enough when I got home there was a message from him. I told her he wants a woman to love, and I’m not that woman, so I don’t want to lead him on. She sighed. She said, you know he is a hard one to read, always keeping to himself and I laughed and said, I know, I call him the man of mystery.