I guess in this zone it’s the wee hours. I’m back in Boston.

I came home to find a white picket fence and matching porch rail. (My house looks so vanilla middle-class now, I gotta move just to get a little funky/groovy back.)

There’s also doored shelves in my bathroom that weren’t there when I left, which will give me a place to store the unmentionables that folks hide, like tampons or toilet paper or an industrial strength enema hose or barbituates or what have you. Before I didn’t have a door to hide stuff, which might explain why I never could lay my hands on a couple of items in that list.

What I don’t have is the faucets I ordered, my luggage (which is best guess still in Vegas), and my man.

But, at least, I got the feeling the boyo might miss me when I’m gone, which is something.