My friend M reminds
Alexander to send me a card for my birthday.
She even adds, “If it’s even a day late it doesn’t count.”
Well, Alexander sends me a
screenplay that is both for and about me; it arrives the night before my birthday. In my opinion, this definitely qualifies for
the card arriving on time.
But still, an actual card
arrives in the mail yesterday.
Alexander writes a lovely
sentiment on the card, and still has a blank page to fill. He knows I love the rap songs he’s sent me in
the past. It's always a thrill to be the recipient of
his creative side. This time I get one
of his drawings. Here’s some background.
Our nighttime doorman is a
man named Morgan (real name). Morgan is very
nice, about 80, and has no business being a doorman. He has his own chair, some raggedy
looking thing that every night he pulls up to the front door. He locks the door and then, unabashedly, goes to sleep. His response to about everything is, “Good,
good.” And whenever he sees Alexander, he asks him to say hello to me. As I said, he's nice. But a three-pound chihuahua would be
more intimidating.
I have complained to Laurie, the building manager, and her response is always the same. Morgan is a friend of the owner and he's not going anywhere. Ever.
While this drawing may have nothing to do with my birthday, it makes me laugh. And I love when my son makes me laugh.
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