“The bathroom of this rental house featured Night of the Living Dead green paint covering the light fixture and window, plus wallpaper with platter-sized cabbage roses of purple and black.
As a break from the tedious paint-chipping, I had started removing the wallpaper, only to discover that behind this layer were previous layers, each covered in paint. So, my break from tedious paint-chipping had become tedious paint-covered wallpaper chipping. Ah, the glamour.
But first, I called Matt Lester at his home in a suburb of Philadelphia. His wife, Bonnie, answered.
“Danny! How are you? I hate you being off by yourself in the middle of nowhere living in what sounds like a shack.”
“Hovel,” I amended under my breath. “But how do you know about my living quarters?”
“Oh. Uh, you know, I, uh, heard.”
“Good God, Bonnie, did my mother call you?”
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