Yesterday my son and his friend reamed my cave. I guess that sounds worse than the deed itself. In layman's terms... take an over-piled storage area, ruthlessly start chucking stuff. Have your kid take the refuse out to the street. Con his best friend into reconstructing an Ikea armoire in the newly available space. Fill said space with crap you will be reaming the next time around. Rejoice. Rejoice again cuz it's worth rejoicing over the reclaimed space in the living quarters. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Rejoice.
I should be at the Casino de Paris listening to Stanley Clarke, Marcus Miller and Victor Wooten right now. But I gave my ticket to the above mentioned best friend. When I handed him the ticket this afternoon, he kept saying, non... non... then he ran out of the apartment. Whatever. I had my weird moments as a teenager way back when.
He came back with the above white roses. Mon ange. I think we'll keep him! ;-)
Things look swell, things look great...
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