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  • It was a great find, our apartment on Norris Court. A fine pad for newlyweds. Wedged between Johnson and Gorham in the heart of the Mad City. You could see the capital out our dining room window. Plenty of traffic and sirens to lull you to sleep. Wood floors and fireplaces. Excellent space for cats who would hide under the enormous, claw-footed tub.

    It had been a good day at Kinkos printing theses for the academes on acid free linens which were then sent off for binding. Bear was working too. We were planning to grab guitars and hit open mics later that night.

    I was released around four. Stopped by Supreme's for their 2 slices of broccoli pizza and coffee special for $2.50. The pizza shop in nose shot from our place.

    Up the alley to the apartment after that. Abuse the cats while joining Tom (Waits) in a chorus of "Heartattack and Vine."

    She was not pleased when she walked in the door. A tough day at the insurance shop getting screamed at by the claims rejects. The job that kept the cigarette habit intact. Not in the apartment of course. But out on the tiny porch between floors.

    Do I dare tell her I'm leaving soon. The guitar was by the door, maybe she knew. There was a certain tension tho between my spending time with Bear of spending time with my wife.

    The nicotine haze preceded her as the door slammed shut and locked and I knew this might not be a good night for open mics. But that was the plan. I'd have to deal with the repercussions.

    My mind was on the set list. Hers was on dinner. How dare I eat without her? No food in the house? I had grabbed classifieds to accompany a comedic version of "8675309" that we'd be playing. Playing? Why do you get to leave with your friend while I have to stay here? Dredging up some Men at Work songs could be fun as well...vegemite sandwiches are always good for a laugh. Cognizance or my rudeness would have to wait. Tho' I'd probably be sleeping on the couch later.

    It was nice though. The apartment on Norris Court. With its' brick and wood floors and old glass-pained doors. Mad City life. For us, unfortunately, it was just that. A bit mad. After a few more months, and many cigarettes later, we'd trapse off to someplace new (together of course). That would be the end of open mics for a while. The end of cigarettes as well.
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