P.S.

The cart escalator is just OK.

Yes, I went back Saturday evening. Robby spent a double overnight at his cousin's house. The apartment came together amazingly well - and quickly.

Then I got suddenly, achingly lonely, realizing I'd spent 36 hours completely alone. Two solid days of rain didn't help.

In this fit of social isolation, I called the African. After three weeks, I'd firmly decided he was a waste of time - no matter how fine a waste. But making contact seemed a good idea on a dreary, lonely day. So I prepared a witty line. I would wish him a happy belated Canada Day, since he's from there and all. I prepared to leave it on his voice mail - a saucy, hey-how's-it-goin', devil-may-care kind of a thing. No invitation to call, just something to make him smile - and then, of course, call.

I rehearsed it in my head, not just the words but the flippant tone.

Not only did he not answer, it didn't even go to voicemail. Instead, the worst thing possible happened. The message alerted me that his mail box was full and unable to take new messages. I cursed this, realizing my caller ID would show up with no reason for the call. That could appear desperate, or something. Damn.

So ... I went back to that super Target. Yes, I needed dog food, cat food, etc., but I went in part because I just wanted to get out. How sad is that?

I even wore a nice shirt and casual heels, thinking I might stop in at this little sports pub next door. But I chickened out; I've
never been good at the single female out-alone thing. I think the bartender secretly snickers when you look around and say, "Well, where could she be? Something must have happened! You might as well give me another; I just know she'll be here soon."

I contented myself instead with a two-minute exchange with the Target checker, a nice lady who seemed to think I was amusing. Even though I checked out near the elevator (and close to my car), I pushed my cart to the opposite end of the store so I could use that cart escalator. Very cool, but still in all, not the stuff of which smashing Saturday nights are made.

I am anxious to make friends. I'm surrounded by 700 units of people, and I know no one - the bank clerk doesn't count. I know it takes time but patience has never been my strongest suit.

Robby came back today and it was like a mini party. We ate ice cream and watched movies. We took a walk in the relentless rain. Ally chased rabbits and Robby skateboarded. We decorated his bathroom. We went - again - to the super Target, bought shower curtain rings and put the tiny package in a cart so we could launch it down the escalator. Robby was ecstatic.

I was horrified - a couple of the checkers smiled at me in recognition.

For those several hours, I forgot I had no friends here yet. After all, my best little buddy was already with me.