Got home from work, as always, am feeling rather… restless. Lay down for awhile, taking joy in the absentee my current roommate has become… consider if would be possible to make it downstairs, close the blinds and enjoy my wheat thins and cottage cheese topless. I decide against it, fashion a rather interesting dress out of an old sarong and continue on with my dvr day.

Except, its not cutting it. Writing wasn’t sounding the best, too much effort to go for a bike ride (and the light is fading fast, damn light), no book really has my interest…

I decide to make the apt look better, take out the trash, finish laudry, tidy up. I realize the need for clothes and throw on some ol’ white capris (the Ex once referred to them as J.Lo pants, right after yet another of our ill-advised meetings) and a black racerback tank. No bra.

I load up the car (freshly washed!) and head to the trash dump. On the way, I offer to take another couple’s trash as I was headed that way and it is at the other end of the building. Good karma for later, I was hoping.

Midway through my unload at the dump, another car pulls up and a woman gets out and unloads hers. I go back for one more load and a beautiful guy is standing there. I didn’t know we HAD beautiful guys in our neighborhood (makes note to go rollerblading/biking/jogging IN the neighborhood from now on). He motions for me to go ahead and even pulls out the remaining bag from my trunk and throws it in. Well, hello gentleman! TrashGentleman shall be his nickname, now lets hope I have a lot more fun ins with him!

Damn. AbsenteeRoommate is back. Guess that means no more lounging topless. sigh.

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