Oh, Barista!

Another one for the "I think he's cute, so he must be straight" files:  One of the baristas at The Coffee Tree Roasters on Walnut Street.  There are two of them here who look like they could be brothers, and both are really, really cute.  But I, of course, am drawn to one specifically, so that kinda makes him straight.  Doesn't matter if he is or not.  If I'm attracted to him, he must be.

Story of my life, man.

 

So in the spirit of that last entry, I forced myself outta the apartment early today, and biked around Shadyside for about an hour or so.  Not much in the way of exercise, but it sure was fun to look at the homes for sale in the area.  If ever I'm in a position to own a second home (that assumes I could first own a first home), I'd definitely buy one in this neighborhood.  Of course, so would most of the world, and that's why most of the houses I was eyeballing cost around half a million dollars.

I'm just one of those guys who assumes that the only way I'll ever own a home is if I win the lottery.

Good news for one of my dear friends, at least:  Toni Schlemmer and her husband Brendon got the house they put a bid on!  She sent me some pictures and it looks really nice!  They're not closing, unfortunately, until after I leave town, so it'll be a while before I get to hang out there with them, but it's really great that they managed to get the house, since they were bursting at the seams of their apartment.

Anyway, the idea of owning a home someday is more and more appealing.  But given my past, and the earning power I have, I just can't imagine it happening any time soon.  Just another one of the things I think I have to accept as part of living on the road less traveled.

[Note:  Sometimes it's better not to hear the actual author read your most favorite poem of all time.  Robert Frost?  Reading The Road Less Traveled?  Not so much.]

There are many of those sorts of things, and sometimes -- just sometimes -- doing without them in onerous.  But most of the time -- particularly when I'm working, doing the job that I love -- they're just things, to me.  Material possessions of no value.  Stuff that I can't take with me when I die -- assuming I'm going anywhere.  Pretty much what I want when all is said and done is great memories and the love of my friends.  Anything after that is pretty much gravy.

Not that I'd spit on the person who offered me a million dollars, mind you.