Gene left for Europe today, alas.
Well…actually, it’s 9:30 in the morning as I type this and he is still here, packing. But in my heart I have already said goodbye; I’m unwilling to go through all that sad leave-taking again, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s already gone. This is creating small problems for him, or so he claims; I, being alone in the apartment, have no problems.
“Can you turn on the printer?”
“Do you have any little toothpaste?”
“I think you’re sitting on my passport, there.”
“If you keep chaining yourself to the door, it makes it hard for me to leave.”
La la la. These are not sentences I can hear.