"When they clean the street I'll be the only shit that's left behind."

There were many obstacles between me and the Gay Pride Parade yesterday. An allergic reaction to the finger I had plunged into my eye to fish out a lash. A much needed phone call from Milwaukee. The general protestations of my housemate ("I don't care that you're dressed like a girl today. I am not walking down Elmwood. Now put a washcloth over your cornea.").

So, instead I retreated to the porch where I found two new objects. In the center of the table was an ashtray and in the center of the ashtray was a bottle opener. My first impulse was to examine the ashtray in fascination--I hadn't seen an actual one since the mid-nineties and it was strange to behold. My second was to look around for the Bad Habit Fairy--that redcheeked sprite that trips madly onto deserving porches and leaves little gifts with nicotine-stained fingers.

And then it occurred to me that these were more likely the offerings of a landlady that had taken note of our summertime habits. That she, either as a sign of graciousness towards her accommodating tenants or in a fit of anger over her empty, much abused flower pot that had been serving us so well, had decided to plant her tokens. Whatever the reason, I stood on the porch facing these glaring symbols of dissipation, feeling not a little abashed as I saw ourselves through someone else's eyes.

Still, I contemplated leaving a bowl of beer on the back steps. You just never know.