Cruel Summer
Old disco hit from days of yore? Cruel Summer by Bananarama?
But I’m ZERO (0) for THREE (3) on bedding. Ten days on a super-soft, too soft mattress in Santa Fe, and then the fish camp in Port A?
The foot of the bed was broken, and besides, sharing a “full” isn’t my style, not anymore. At least a queen, and that one had queen sheets. Kept slipping off as the corners were not properly fitted.
Too soft in old East Texas, too. At least the plays were good, and the night sky was — dark of the moon — truly spectacular.
Cruel Summer
The Summer of Bad Beds, the curse was lifted in Boston. Downtown Boston. Nice hotel. Not even a motel, a real hotel.
What changed in Boston, a place with a really good mattress. But like all cities? Reminded me, and this is dredging a Mercury-infused memory, reminded me of the old flat in London. Big city, sleeping in the dark hours of the night, in the guest room, at just the right time, it was quiet enough to hear the last train leaving the Underground station.
It was a similar kind of aural notion, more like a rumble, or a vibration? I’m not sure of the source, in Boston, upper-crust, nice hotel, almost too-tony for me, but, we do what we must.
Because MERCURY is RETROGRADE, I should probably work in one more fishing trip. Odds aren’t good for coastal accommodations.
