I walk through the front door, my sister's there, she mentions that the girl up the street that's going to marry me stopped by, and I wonder at this, as I haven't spoken to her, or so much as seen her face, in a couple months, and don't even recall her name.
There is no such person, except in that most people haven't seen or spoken to me in forever.
She lives in the dark green house up the street, so I go there.
I walk in, the main room is a mirror of the house I'd just been in.
This is normal, all the houses here are built to essentially the same plan, mirrored and with minor alterations.
She and her friend are sitting on the floor, backs against the wall to the right, while some 20-something is trying to tell them about a '70s detective show, the Something-somethings, and they're having none of it.
I send him away, and say something along the lines of "If he can't lift you, at least let me push you up," which I do, falling on my back in front of them, and pushing them up by their feet.
The second girl is gone, and we're standing in her basement, looking into the garage, which has thousands of wrenches lining the walls, and some vehicle in it. I tell her about my father's GT,
My father had a GTO, not a GT. Rust-orange and black. Gone before I was 5, but I remember sitting in the front seat, my mother and infant sister in the back, and asking what the letters stood for. I wasn't satisfied with the answer he gave me.
and trying to impress her by talking about the toolbox my father left behind when he ran off, even while looking at
It's a not-insignificant collection, but largely gone to rust now, and of course dwarfed by
her collection.
My nephew called, and asked if I'd like anything from Italian Restaurant #2. I thanked him for waking me from what was turning into a nightmare, and asked for a calzone (it's a word, FF!).
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Index 
Flat 
So let's see if I can get this right...
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