I felt SOOOOO old and it was so much fun, and wonderful. I spent a couple of hours Sunday 4/23 morning at the recently relocated, reinvented, renewed and larger (Seattle’s LGBTQ Center) Gay City, helping paint some murals on the office walls. Never did anything like that before. I got the third from the middle ring, that medium blue one, in Uranus – I’m hoping my jeans will never lose the wiped-my-hands-on-them streak.
I was the oldest person in the building by AT LEAST a couple of decades. And it was thrilling to be surrounded by a crew of intelligent, powerful, lively young people. My gray hairs did prove useful – maybe, just maybe, I was the first to point out that it might be a good idea to tarp the furniture as well as the floor. And I emphatically declared that paper towels are a good thing, and therefore YAY for my corporate credit card and a nearby bodega.
And then there was the weird. I went public transit, took the bus in. Got off at a transfer point and almost walked into an orphaned suitcase and bike helmet set in the outdoor bay. I hope the poor owner didn’t lose anything important, and can be traced. I once left a baby stroller on a sidewalk in Baltimore. Very annoying.
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