house weirdness in two senses

Friday, the fellows who cleaned West Neighbors' upper windows offered to do the ones on the north side of my place. You know, half of the ones that aren't safely reachable. I said, "Yes, if you can." They did so, and then didn't come back to my door so I could pay them. I even saw them driving as I was waiting for the bus later that evening. They waved. I... what? Are they going to bill me? Because that's OK.

I had a ticket for Friday night at the Monkey Loft to see Fred Everything, who was, I must say, pretty great: uptempo and jazz-flavored. The man from Montreal can be forgiven for wearing what looked like a black fedora. Much random social, too much booze, and just the right amount of Japanese fried chicken at the Monkey Loft's in-house sushi-and-other-Japanese joint, Saru*. Dude who made the chicken was the only one wearing a mask in the whole place. I... kinda wish they'd opened the roof before I punked out at 0100. Excellent mass transit mojo on the way back.

I had two different fetish events happening at the same time last night, but I didn't try to go to either of them because my body said, "Nope." I only regret that a tiny bit.

Comcast Xfinity has sent me email for the third time that they're about to disconnect my service. I'm most likely going to spend the afternoon on the phone with them instead of going to the Fremont Sunday Market, where I don't really need to spend any more money for a while. If that's salvation, though, I'll take perdition. Why, oh why, can't they get it into their system that my lot got subdivided? It's a common scenario.



*Saru being Japanese for monkey, of course.