over the edge

I’ve already spilled the beans to X on this entry, she’ll get nothing out of it. This whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing is horribly conducive to speaking, and bouncing things, off the other. You get what you get.

I’m perplexed by the huge condo / apartment buildings in the greater D.C. metro area: every one taller than three stories is laden with balconies. Yet, I never see anyone out on the balconies – they are clearly and idea used to sell and rent, but are rarely used by the suburbanites. Of course, if there were no balconies no one would move in, “Honey, there’s no balcony. I need fresh air in the evening. I need somewhere to entertain.” We, here on North Park Dr., spend a ton of time in our courtyard. People in the New England, those out West, those in three stories or less DO spend time outside: in courtyards, on porches, on the lawn, watching people. Nobody sits on the stoop outside a thirty-story monstrosity…nobody. If you live in something that big you want privacy, and with privacy comes the highly-valued personal balcony. In the end, it might house the bike, the boxes from moving in that you were too lazy to break down, the recycling, or the bag of garbage that goes down on Tuesday mornings. “Hey baby, you forgot to take the hidden garbage down this morning. I was planning on have the gals over for mint juleps on the balcony this evening.” As if…

I was down at NAS Pax River today. As with every trip to the ‘base’ I realize once again that I’ve got no idea how I spent twenty years in the military. I had a great job, I loved where I lived, but I was lucky. There is nothing that mixes when you put me and military together…I think I knew that when I was 21.

T.