married white couple

It’s my duty to report on X and her genus. The most recent sighting of her type occured in a mysterious parking lot down Springfield way: an exchange of Chinese-based, yet Delft-like pottery. She was looking for something to sit in our entry way on the Hilltop and hold the myriad umbrellas that seem to wander to and fro. It was another Craigslist hook-up that involved the exchange of laundered money and blue/white goods that ended with this riposte while X attempted to load the first item (a vase) onto the backseat of Galactica, “On the floor…the floor! Vases and cakes on the floor!” she declared to X. Right. Cakes.

We have another lamp that sits on an end table and was procured via the List. For this exchange the two met in the Whole Foods parking lot in Falls Church – the deepest, dankest, darkest corner of the drug trade. Based on what was occurring with the planning of the above transaction – a thought of exchanging in the same parking lot if able – I figured she’d be busted for some type of illicit Delft activity in the suburbs: piles of high-end fancy cars and various bits of ceramic. In the end, she made it home safely from the Whole Foods (last time) lot without a felony on her record.

The last incident, though it fell between the other two, was the purchase of something I’ll call the porn chair. Her father purchased something referred to as “the ultimate chair” – something that requires a second mortgage to acquire. Anyhow, X found a twenty year-old version of the same chair on the List. For cheap. I hadn’t seen “the chair” prior to its arrival in our living room: if I could make the sound of the Shaft theme song via typing, I would. The rest of our living room is purely Victorian and it looks at the new starlet with some serious disgust…as if. We’re looking around for some swingers.

The humidity is too much. The temperature is fine.

Ah.

t