7:01 p.m. - July 31, 2005
Pant, pant, how I want to slurp
If I had what it took, I'd offer cold water to the moving men emptying one of the units. I've been watching off and on for hours now, titillated by men sweating condensed testosterone. Go downstairs and occupy myself with my vehicle? Strike up a conversation - Whoa, looks like you guys are working hard, I've got beer upstairs. Interested? - or simply lick my lips and make an obscene gesture with my finger and lips?
I am unconvinced encounters such as these happen in real life.
I cannot focus, distracted as I am. If I move East, I will request the services of the Chesapeake Movers. Might have a better chance to work up my nerve over the course of 3,000-some miles rather than in one afternoon.
