I want to write to all of you,
the few of you who'll read this,
anyway,
I want to tell you what I've been up to.
Below the fold,
cuz I like the squiggly:
I don't have much time,
but if I did,
I'd write about my marriage,
which is just about
too good to be true;
my sweetheart,
my adoring wife,
Tonia,
lets me goof off,
so much,
it's almost like being a baby again,
nothing but eating and sleeping
(and using the restroom,
but you don't want to dwell on that,
do you?)
But when I get up and get dressed,
I have such a good time,
with doing laundry,
in cold water,
(since we have no water heater),
and hanging the clothes on the line,
(since we have no dryer),
and waiting till the rain stops,
so the laundry will get dry.
I truly enjoy all that.
I fixed the banister,
so we have something to hang on to
when climbing the stairs.
It was so much fun:
measure,
cut the board,
drill the hole,
install the screw,
over and over,
til I'm done,
at least for the day.
I could go on and on,
fixing so many things all over the house,
but you know,
only so many hours in the day.
To give you perspective,
I'm living in a five bedroom house
with my wife,
Tonia,
and her uncle Randall,
her three brothers,
Terrell,
Michael,
and Isaac,
and also Steve,
who's buying my car from me.
Tonia and I are living in a room
that was added on to the back of the house;
it's 14' x 12' ,
and has a utility room
and screened in porch
added on to it.
This is a house of add-ons
added on to
add-ons.
I must quit writing on this,
because I need to start writing,
typing up a document written
by Tonia's aunt Sonya.
Aunt Sonya could tell you
about the civil rights movement,
back in the fifties,
the battle of the lunch counters,
which started
right here in Wichita, Kansas.
The way she told it,
black folks had to eat their lunches
standing up.
When they insisted on sitting down,
the owners of the lunch counters
told the cooks
to burn the hell out of their sandwiches.
Sonya lost her job,
working at a lunch counter,
because she didn't realize what was going on,
and she told the cook
to take back that burnt sandwich,
and send out a good one.
But I don't have time
to write about all this,
because I need to type up her document,
a document giving the history
of her family reunions,
from 1948 to 1960.
(Tonia and I are attending this year's family reunion.)
Thanks for reading,
even though
I couldn't really write much.
No time,
tonight.
Thanks again.