Red Storm Rising

I'm sitting here alone drinking wine, enjoying having the house to myself for the evening when the doorbell rings. In Arizona, the doorbell never rings, and if it does, you probably don't want to answer it. Most people who knock on the door are selling something or are trying to convert you to something. No one here one knows their neighbors and anyone you want to see will call first, which they have to do because they know you won't answer the door, because...well, you get the idea.

Well, it turns out that it's a day for exceptions because it IS my neighbor, I DO know him and I DID answer the door. He's from New York, so I have to excuse him for breaking the rules of Arizona friendship.

Sam sits down and I pour him some wine. He looks very depressed. I ask him what's wrong, and it seems that he's ankled it over to my place to comfort me about my pending divorce. He sees that I have my laptop and a pile of cd's on the coffee table and asks what I'm up to. I explain that Mrs. Wit and I split up our CDs today and I'm making copies of the ones we both wanted. Sam sighs like it was the most depressing thing he's ever heard.

I try my best to cheer him up, but he's inconsolable. Poor man.


I walk him out and we stand in the driveway and admire the storm that's colliding with the sunset. We have an awkward pause while he works himself up to leaving me to languish in my depression.

Distracted, I say, "Hey thanks for coming over, Sam, but I'm going to get my camera and get some pics of this! See ya!"





Sam mopes off home and I run for the camera and scamper around the neighborhood trying to capture the scene before I lose the light or it starts raining.