On a quest for the (imaginary) friend’s house
No need to dig deeply for a reason. The seashore was sufficient to sell me.
Not my land; I’ve been watching a movie, on the installment plan. That is, the movie started, but a longish phone call meant that the pause button was called into my plan. You see. We’ve just finished a private screening of Paper Man, starring Jeff Bridges as someone who doesn’t realize that “no man is an island” is more than a citation from Bartlett’s.
And as an aside; I never had a super hero or an imaginary friend. Right, Fred?
Actually, this was a technological success, watching the movie. From my laptop, out the HDMI cable to the receiver, out another HDMI cable to the TV, with real sound. I mean, I knew it could be done, but this was the first time for me to actually get all my “ducks in a row” before the rest of the audience gave up and went off to read a book.
It’s rather late, but I’m on taxi call. That’s where a parent has been forewarned that “a ride home” might be necessary. No time given, no “for sure” status. The mighty might. Given that the destination is way off in the hills, around dozens of bends, I’ve printed a map. Much better than relying on my dead reckoning skills. It’s embarrassing when you get to within several streets of the friend’s house (not, I must add, an imaginary friend) and then drive up and down like someone on a quest. Especially since you could drive past the house, again and again, without so much as the wave of a friendly hand.
