This six-bedroom spec house is in the final stages of construction in my neighborhood. It can be yours for $2.2m. The house sits on a quarter-acre lot and has a four-car tandem garage. It seems a bit pricey to me but the housing market here stills seems to be on fire.
The art tour was fun last night. The town was anxiously awaiting the re-opening of Rule Gallery in their new space on Santa Fe. The building is owned by Mary Mackey, a Denver artist who is a star on the local scene. Mary’s studio is in the rear of the building.
Paddy and his latest crush, the hotel clerk, picked me up. We had dinner and then headed to Rule. Valerie and Hilary took us into the back room to view some Wes Kennedy pieces not included in the current show. The pieces were stunning.
Our next stop was Mike Smith gallery in Lodo were parking is next to impossible. The art was good and prices were high. The next stop was the co-ops on Navajo where we met up with Jacqueline. Louis Recchia and some great pieces at Pirate. His wife, Zoa Ace, has a few pieces there too.
After the galleries we stopped at Interstate for cocktails and a late night nosh. It was an enjoyable night.
The hotel clerk is a handsome young stud. I hope Paddy keep this one around for a while. He can properly conjugate a verb which seems to be just one of his many talents.
My contract has been extend until the end of 2016. The client wants to keep me under contract through 2017 but it depends on budgets and business climate. He also wants to give me two more product lines to support. I’m not happy about supporting the other product lines because they are fraught with problems. At least I’ll be employed. It’s good to know he wants to keep me around when many jobs are being offshored to India.
A few pictures from Friday night’s art tour.
First up, Robert Brinker at Michael Warren Contemporary. Metropolitan Dragon, hand cut paper $8,500.
Jean Smith at Zip37. Clay vases, around $75.
Dania Pettus at Edge. Altered film negative printed digitally $900.
Patsy’s, an Italian Restaurant, which became a Denver institution has closed. Ciao. More offerings from Jean Smith in the foreground.
Network security is very important to my client. Each user has a six digit password that is used to log into their VPN. A separate four digit password is entered into a random number generator that produces an eight digit number which is added to the user’s six digit password. The resulting fourteen digit password is authenticated before VPN access is granted.
Yesterday, I started to log into my client’s VPN. I couldn’t remember the first six digits of the password sequence. I panicked. I use this number at the start of every day. How could I forget it? Visions of being shipped off to a memory care facility to finish out my days flashed in my mind.
I made the dreaded call to the IT helpdesk for a password reset. Faced with a thirty-five minute wait for an agent, I hung up and decided to make a cup of tea. With my freshly brewed tea, I sat down at my desk to call IT. I looked at my laptop and I suddenly remembered the password. What’s with that?
I hardly ever see my house guest. She works long days for the campaign. My office is a few feet from her bedroom but each day she simply leaves and never greets me. She usgets home after I go to bed.
She always keeps her door closed which is a good thing because her room is a disaster. She must have a hundred bras. There are bras on the bed, on the floor, hanging on the door knob, in the chair and on the dresser. If we are both home during the day she stays in her room with the door closed. I offered to do her laundry since she works up to eighteen hours a day. She told me her mother told her she would lose all self respect if I did her laundry. I launder the bed linens and towels but that must not affect her self respect.
The guest bathroom is a complete mess. She has products everywhere. She wears Old Spice deodorant and has three toothbrushes. Every day she leaves a huge puddle of water on the bathroom vanity. I can’t figure out what she’s doing to get water all over the granite vanity top. No other house guest has ever made such a mess in the bathroom. She said she would clean the bathroom but has yet to do so.
She will not use the toilet paper I provided. I think toilet paper is a luxury so I buy to best I can find. She is using single ply that feels like it came from an airport bathroom in third world country. It’s one step away from sandpaper. She has never put anything in the bathroom waste bin. She keeps a plastic bag in her room for trash that she disposes at some other location.
She showers in the morning and in the evening when she gets home. Her showers average fifteen minutes. That seems a bit long to me even if she’s shaving her legs (do women shave their legs everyday?). Coming from Southern California which often has water restrictions, one would think she would be mindful of her water usage. Water is expensive in Denver. I’m not looking forward to my water bill.
This week I found out she’s been hanging wet towels and clothes on the foot board of the steel bedframe in her room. I’m guessing she did poorly in science classes because most people know that steel will rust. I had to send her a text asking her not to hang wet towels and garments on the bed frame.
She will not park in garage because she’s afraid of hitting my car when she pulls in. She parks her car on the street even though there’s plenty of room in the driveway.
She has not dirtied a dish since she’s been here. She eats all of her meals away from the house. I offered to pick things up at the grocery store for her but she refused my offer. The young man staying at Sheila’s house, who is also a campaign worker, said my house guest is always hungry. I don’t understand why she doesn’t eat when she’s in my house.
The woman is odd. I’m looking forward to the end of the election cycle. I want my house back to myself.
It’s been a while since I took a dating journey. It ended up being another trip down disappointment drive.
A guy messages me online. We text back and forth. His profile says he’s thirty-nine but it turns out he’s thirty-three. I’m not keen on the twenty-six year age. He’s an interesting guy so I continue to chat with him online. He grew up in Austria and moved to the U.S. thirteen years ago. He has a good job, a Volvo SUV and lives in a townhouse in one of the northern suburbs. He wants to get married and have children. I decided the guy could be a friend but not a romantic partner. At this point in my life, I don’t want to raise children, or prevent another man’s dream from coming true.
The guy wanted to meet for lunch. We make plans to meet on Sunday. On Sunday morning, I get a text from the guy cancelling our meeting. He forgot it was 9/11. I asked for an explanation but he didn’t reply. It’s been radio silence ever since.
How odd is that? While every one I know is respectful of 9/11, none of my friends altered their day. Life proceeded as life would on a Sunday. The chance to make a new friend turned out to be another journey down disappointment drive.