Bascomb's Regrets

I sublet my apartment to a (I hesitate to say whacko, but a woman who presents herself as a single renter and then like moves her entire extended family and two kids into my one-bedroom walk-up can’t be totally congealed can she be) person so that I could go to Paris to work (well, okay, so I was really racing my moped against Real Madrid fans most of the time) for Kodak for 92 days of perfectly playable Montara weather. And, what, a week after I get back Dipsea (who, wherever she is now, can be satisfied and maybe the girl whose name was the name of a sleepy Caribbean town will turn her into the SPCA and then we’ll see who’s smarter) JUMPED OUT MY WINDOW in the early hours of the morning. I never found her. Baker and I miss her.