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It's 2:45 am and I'm searching for sheer valances on eBay. I had a chance to tour my old/new duplex today and oh man is it small. Maybe it's because I've been living in a Rancho Cordovan mansion, I dunno. But it's small. Anyway, whoever's been in it took down the curtains and the little girly tulle valances. They also painted over the almost purple wall in my bedroom with white. The landlady was in there instructing a guy in broken Spanish to paint the kitchen cabinets white too. I wanted to interrupt them and say I wasn't living in a sanitarium quite yet and could they dial it down with the white, but then she told me she'd be giving me the keys a few days early. So I shrugged and smiled and returned to the living room where I watched the train plow by across the street.

"Oh look, the train," I said aloud to no one in particular when a lady's head popped in the door. She was holding up keys.

"Hello!" she exclaimed, "You must be Colleen!" You must not be Ophelia, I thought immediately, filled with joy. We went on to have a long talk about our native Sacramentoness, our working for the Statedom, and so forth. Babies and dogs (accompanied by adult humans) strolled by like I remembered.