It’s a running joke in our friend circle that I’m impossible to speed up (surprise, surprise) and Ken is impossible to slow down. A single glance at an empty calendar square and the man’s found a way to fill it with four conference calls, three house projects, two oil changes, one heaping pot of curry
It was this: a rusty U-Haul truck smelling of dog breath and vinyl. Six, seven years ago, maybe more? Ken and I were somewhere near Arizona, moving our hearts and our dish towels from Los Angeles to his Midwestern hometown. My father-in-law was sick, we’d learned two weeks prior. We’d need to come home soon.
And just like that, just like a snap of the fingers and a flip of the page, the basement is finished. For those of you new to my psuedo-neighborhood, Ken and I (the “and I” should be loosely referenced), have been renovating our home in the Midwest for oh, five years now? We shared two