My sister relieved me on Friday evening, so I decided to ring up Bruce and see what he was doing for the evening. When he didn't answer, I just drove to his house.
Heading over there, a very fat mosquito blew through my car's driver's side window, and landed on my arm. When I tried to brush it off, it burst, and suddenly I was smeared with blood. I don't know whose blood it was - bird, human, dog, cat, or horse. I only know that if I come down with West Nile/Bubonic Plague/AIDS/Ebola, at least I have an excuse.
Bruce lives in this nice old house in Martineztown, a neighborhood that, despite its central location, I never had familiarity with, even when I lived here.
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