Thanks to my apartment mate I know that there was a radio series named "suspense", sponsored by Roma Wines. The finest wines California shipped world wide, and enjoyed even by Europeans. She listens to old episodes. In the evening.
Yesterday early she went off to the place where she volunteers on Saturday, and over the course of the morning prepared several large urns of coffee because the other volunteers are zombies at that hour and need their wake-up jolt. She sampled each batch, to see if the brew was strong enough, pleasingly full bodied, and when I got home last night she was still wired to the eyebrows.
Sometimes she's so far up the spectrum that time and space have lost all meaning. Consequently I got to hear "I'll Plant My Own Tree" from Valley Of The Dolls several times. Plus a voiced mimicry of the sabre dance from Aram Katchaturian's ballet Gayane.
Her Aspergers puts my Aspergers to shame.
Hands down. I shiver and quake.
No questions asked.
I'm in awe.
Mmm, when I get home from dealing with delinquent old farts, I need a cup of coffee and a bit of quiet time. A buzzing and flitting hummingbird isn't it. Conversationally, I am spent for while. Same reason I get to work early. That way there's a full hour and twenty minutes before there's any chance of oddity. Doctor Sam might show up shortly after nine, but he's rational, liberal, and has a ready wit, besides not being inclined to saying much while enjoying coffee and a cigar, so no bigggie, no sweat.
My apartment mate has never gotten fully acquainted with fully blasted caffeinated drinks, and because of that, several cups of decent coffee may have jangled her up. Precisely like a restaurant full of Cantonese people having dim sum and several pots of tea. They leave wreathed in smiles and so totally zotsed that all of them are vibrating. Weeeeeee!
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