It isn't that late, and our guests have all gone home. Sarah with Carol to her townhouse, and Dorothy with Chelsea to her stepdaughter's grandmother's house next door. Carl and Jesús have volunteered along with George to do the cleaning up, leaving Jeffrey and I in our armchairs. He is scrolling on his phone, something he hasn't stopped doing since shortly before everyone left I am thumbing through some more pages of Karen Wilson's autobiography. I am wondering about reading together, but somehow I don't think anyone has the attention span, not after what we have all been through today. Let's see, Carl's mama is still very sick in hospital and her friend has just died. We narrowly rescued Jesús from getting extorted by his Ukrainian slumlord as well as getting his brains smashed out by his baseball bat. Said landlord gave us the chase then killed himself in the pursuit, and we escaped the scene of the crime and ended up in a pot bakery and café on the Drive were everyone except me got totally baked on cannabis cookies. then back at home for a meltdown from Dorothy and a prematurely smashed piñata, followed by some of the most delicious liqueur chocolates I have ever tasted. Yes, just another average day in the life....
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