... the arrival of one Connor and Cailin Ross. Wooooo, heading into the city soonish to meet them at Penn station. In the meantime I am cleaning my room and maximizing my modest floor space. I gave Rob a head's up that some guests were coming into town and he seemed none too pleased. The man does not thrive on social interaction. I mean seriously, he's a "writer" but he's not one to go to a literary salon and discuss the fine art of the written word over a scotch... he's not one to leave his room period. The only time he emerges from his room is when cooking some pungent dish in the Wok, something that will permeate the apartment for days. Honestly, he sits in his room ALL DAY LONG working on a trilogy about the John Lennon and Yoko Ono from some obscure fictional character's perspective. No, one was not enough. He took the rejection slips from every editor in New York, Boston, LA, London, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Denver, Des Moines (etc., etc.) and decided that rather than scrap his one lousy manuscript he would multiply it by three...yes Rob, that ought to change their minds. If they don't like it in one concise volume they will be sure to like it in three long drawn out tedious texts. Flawed logic.
Anyway, we will be making ourselves scarce for the extent of the week because Rob is shaking in his boots in anticipation of human contact.
Oooh, second ever interaction with Spencer this morning: "Just so you know, my name is spelled C-O-B-R-I-N, not C-O-R-B-I-N." So by next month we should have worked up to "good morning." There are 8 million people in New York and I've ended up with these gems. What a chump.
Regardless, I am very excited to be having Cailin and Connor roll into town. Hey, with two more to break through the impenetrable air of of distaste cast in my general direction, we might just brave the common areas.
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