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My BFF Tom arrived in town today, taking the high-speed ferry from his summer place in Provincetown to Boston. I'm still recovering, I hope from the odd flu thing I had over the weekend. But Tom, he will not be ignored.
"I'm coming tomorrow. It's the best weather for the rest of the week." he says.
"Okay, I can only promise clean sheets and diet Pepsi. Don't expect a clean house." I reply.
"Oh, since I've never been out in Boston, I want to hit a couple of bars. You'll have to go." he says.
"I think I'm running fever. Is it bad or good that there's green stuff in my Kleenex." I tell him.
"Don't even try it. You're going out with me. I'm the king of the walk-off as it is.", he says.
"I'm out of Robitussin" I say. "My throat feels like I've eaten shredded glass."
"Oh, maybe we can do pictures around MIT and Harvard, the weather's gonna be great!" he says.
You get the picture. Tom is boyish with a nerdish sense of humor, loves Buffy reruns, geeky gadgets and dives with bartenders who give him 100% of their undivided attention. Tom's big on attention, and you'd better not forget it. And since I haven't seen him since October, I was all too happy to cater to his whims, sniffles and all.
He now lies napping on the new sofa, dreaming of alcoholic concoctions he'll consume over the next 24 hours, the sunny, breezy, shop-lined streets of Provincetown and whatever else successful-beyond-their-years Manhattan boys dream of. I'll be happy if my sinus pressure clears enough by 9 p.m.
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