But today! Ah, today, perhaps all that has changed.
After a long and weary slog through our nation's capital, during which I was assaulted by hippies on the mall and mocked by an Arab cab driver, who displayed an appalling lack of gratitude as well as a deplorable grasp of the American vernacular, I came home to find a moving van outside my apartment building.
Well. Of course my first thought was that Dick had died during the day, and his relatives had come to cart off his worldly possessions, but no. As it turned out, it was an even more fortunate occurrence than this.
The door sprang open and a vision of loveliness appeared. Tall, blonde, pleasantly emaciated, her sharp face, intelligent and long as a horse's, poking out over a box of books. She plunked them down at the feet of the one of the movers, a sweaty person of some swarthy ethnic variety.
"There's your f*****g tip," she spat, and my heart soared.
The meximalan picked up one of the books and flipped it open like a deck of cards. "Later for your book, puta," he said, and tossed it back into the box. I saw her flinch ever-so-slightly, with daintily repressed feminine terror, and I knew at once that I had met my soulmate.
Or was about to meet her anyway.