Abra Cadabra

Abra Cadabra

Nurse, musician too
Disappearing act complete
magician as well

I dated a fellow for two months, somebody I thought was a lovely and stable fellow. He is a nurse by day and a spectacular musician the rest of the time. Our dates consisted of seeing movies, playing Scrabble, going out to dinner, and once even making out on a street corner like a couple of teenagers. But now he's disappeared, like the milk a magician pours into a cone of newspaper. Do you suppose one of his tricks went awry? Perhaps a rabid rabbit? Or the lady sawed in half came to complain about the blouse he ruined? Whatever the reason, it's okay that this fellow has vanished. Apparently he wasn't the right one for me. Besides, this guy wasn't as nearly as awesome in spandex as Doug Henning.

Every. Day.

Every. Day.

I contemplate death
perhaps restrictive mittens
for piano man

I live in an older apartment complex, something built apparently before they had sound because there is no insulation and I can hear just about everything coming from the neighbors' apartments. The fellow that lives directly next door has an upright piano, and this fellow's brother comes over every day to practice. Every. Day. He is a brilliant pianist, but you have to practice every day to become that good. Every. Day. No. Insulation. Why does this jerk face have to practice at his brother's house? I struck a deal with him earlier this year that there would be no piano playing after 6:30 in the eve, which is usually when I got home from work, but now that I am a Lady of Leisure (read: laid off) I have to hear it all day long. Every. Day. I am going to learn how to knit right now.