Love among the ruins

Yesterday morning I hauled a bunch of stuff to the landfill in midtown. Somewhat smugly, as did everyone there, feeling so industrious to have already loaded up and be out there before 9am.

One of the things that I dumped was the old TV set that I've had sitting on my porch since winter, hoping that someone would steal it but no such luck. It was quite heavy and as I struggled over to the drop zone (that was SO satisfying to drop that the 14 feet or so to the concrete below - crash!) a voice behind me said "Hey, do you need help with that?" and I said no, I've got it - dropped it over the edge, turned around and there of all people was my occasional-friend Ron. Or, as Michele said today, "This was Nice Coffee Guy?"

Yes. As in not Strange Coffee Guy, which was a different story. Ron and I met at the feed store last year and he and his sweet dog Elsa came on some walks with me and Hunter, and some smallish dates, and....I just didn't go there. For the silliest reason (or not) - the thing I never felt okay about is that he was way too good-looking. A very nice man. But prettier than any man I've known and a good 3/4 of the women too. I always felt a little intimidated because he's a guy that people just look at. I haven't quite sorted out all the reasons I denied myself any exploration further, but the fact that there were multiple reasons was enough for me to just close that file.

Still, I felt a little wistful to learn that he and Elsa are heading south, tomorrow as a matter of fact. Back to Montana, likely for good. I'm sad not to say goodbye to Elsa. But let it not be said that I cannot grasp an opportunity, as there in front of God and everyone at the Central Transfer Station, among the blowing trash and the ravens, we had a goodbye kiss of the type that alerted me to previously uncharted nerve endings in my toes. So long, cowboy.