Since I was awakened at an obscene-to-me hour this morning, I thought I’d do some laundry. I’d been taking it to the old place, and doing a couple of loads while I packed, cleaned, etc. Now that I’m done, done, done (hallelujah!) with all that, I no longer have laundry privileges.
So, I called the office bright and early to ask where the laundry facilities were located and was told there were machines in the basement next door to me. Excellent! I’ll have to go outside to get to the laundry room, but I won’t have to drive over to the maintained building/office/pool house, as I’d feared.
I ran to the bank to get quarters, then came home and sorted my laundry and took a load over to wash. I’m happy to report that there are two washers and two dryers, and that it all looks clean and well maintained.
Anyway, as I was screwing around, putting stuff in the machine, I smelled something burning, like a match that had just been put out. I looked around, and there was Milton, walking through the far doorway with two large pillar candles and a lighter in his hands. M’kaythen! After he went back upstairs, and I’d heard the front door close, I looked around in the wayback room he’d been in. There were a bunch of numbered doors, corresponding to the apartment numbers for that half of the building. Oh, hey! We have storage rooms!
I checked out my storage room, and it’s about 8′ x 8′. Not bad. Next time I’m in Owen County, I can pick up the mower I left at Ms. Lea’s house. I also have a bunch of junk–frames and wood and old paintings–that I can stash down there.
Now, what I want to know is, what on earth was Milton was doing, hanging out down there and burning candles in his storage room. Was he meditating in his oubliette?
red paper boat 