Home again

I'm back in Cambridge, and it's beginning to really feel like home. The dog and I take the long walk around the fishing ponds and along the river, and it's really nice.

I was down on Willy (Williamson) street and saw a bunch of people I hadn't seen in years. Futon, Pinhead, and Boyle all in about 15 minutes. And seeing Boyle reminded me of the famous Don.

The famous Don was a real ass hole. It all started that Boyle wanted to borrow my step van to move from one place to another, so I loaned it to him. Then Boyle decided to do his friend Don a favor and let him use it. Only Don wanted to move a bunch of his friends to make some money. So I had to hound Boyle for days to get it back, and when I finally did get it back it was full of crap from somebody doing a tear off of a roof, and hauling the trash away in my truck. Needless to say, Boyle never used it again, and I was tempted to slug the famous Don first time I saw him. That was back in my nice guy days. Today I'd report it stolen, and press charges.

Don wasn't the only guy who liked to steal the truck. A guy named Diamond used to steal it too. Another friend told me what Diamond was using it for, and that was it, he never got it again. By then I'd welded hasp's on the doors so I could lock it up, and another fellow used it a lot so I could tell Diamond I didn't have the key to the locks and couldn't let him into it, he'd need to ask Jim, and of course Jim would always say no. One day Diamond came over to waste my time yet another time and ask for it, and when I said I couldn't let him into it, he threw the key that he claimed he'd lost on the floor and said I might just as well have it back.

There must be something wrong with me. I always thought it was easier to simply work.