This baby was old when John (center) used to sleep on it at Alan's (right), and older still when he slept on it (and Alan, too, postprandially) at my place in New York and then in Block Island. But, alas, at 40 years of age, the feathers had long gone flat and the velvet had lost its nap, and so we loaded the poor thing in the truck for one last trip to that place where everything goes in the end. It cost $24 (not including the gas) to throw away.
2 comments:
WAHHHHHHH
I so do not remember this particular item.
And what the hell does postprandial mean? Is that like, after you eat a bunch of shellfish?
You guys do a lot of that.
You were acting atypically to throw it out. You could have taken it back to 98 Riverside and put it out by the curb.
I mean, a little prescision here, please.
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