STOUT ORANGEMEN ALL
BELLINGHAM I am a thug: exported north solely for muscle power.
One of my best friends moved from Phoenix, Arizona, to Whatcom County, Washington (about 90 minutes from my Seattle flat): the exquisite travel writer and self-proclaimed "Wayne-fuc%in'-Gretsky-of-the- navel-gazing-article" Edward Readicker-Henderson.
He's a pseudo big brother and calls in that type of favor. Haul couches and book boxes (I hurt). Open beer bottles with butter knives (I may have a permanent scar). Don't swear in front of his folks (I'm damaged for life).
Because, well, the Lake Samish house just inspires obscenity, from the orange shag carpet to the avocado drapes and mustard-yellow cooker. Did I mention the wires snaking up the fake-wood walls? And the mineral deposits that morphed a normal bathroom suite into an orange-pink nightmare? The (surprise!) non-potable well? The comedy "bedroom" that measures about 5x7 feet?
Forget swinging a cat. This closet barely has room to flap a pudgy hamster.
Yeah, yeah. The jammy b@stard has the best backyard EVER. He deserves no sympathy, really.
But what about me, as I de-limescale the neon-scummed shower enclosure?