TommyBoy and The Visigoths next Door

Along with our budding daffodils, a new boyfriend has arrived at the Hot Sorority Visigoth's next door for the Spring. I typically only ID their rotating boyfriends by car make and model, so all I knew is that we had most recently fallen madly in love with a charcoal gray Ford F150.

It turns out his name is Tommy and he's been here long enough I am willing to learn his name (though I wrote it down in front of him, so he has to know his odds aren't that great). We hung out on the deck this afternoon and got sunburned. He said, "so the girls tell me you're a writer. What kinda writer are you?"

I said I was writing right that minute (outlining the 60 columns that still have to be edited into manageable shape)  and showed him the chapter on their roommate who shimmied up my drainpipe and accidentally broke into my upstairs hall as opposed to theirs. I assumed she and her friends had formed a makeshift pyramid and vaulted onto my balcony as their burglary launching point.

By the time I found her, she was bisected by the hallway window, half in and half out of the house. The top half was in. When I first heard the scuffle, I was expecting, perhaps a racoon -- as opposed to a hot sorority visigoth. So it's fair to say we were both startled.

Tommy explained to me today she's the smallest of the Visigoths at only about 4'11" and 90 pounds (though it sure didn't make it any easier to drag her ass through that window, I'm here to tell ya) -- as if I was genuinely worried about the security risk she posed. The problem wasn't really that I didn't think I could take her.... the more legitimate concern was how darn relieved I was I hadn't shot her.

Delightful gal! They laughed...nervously.