The mood instantly lightens and Mary laughs. “They are both really beautiful. I think they complement this place and I would love to continue the theme throughout your home.”
Tapping my chin, I pose, “You’re not going to turn my apartment into some weirdo abstract art cavern, are you, where my kitchen stools will be bicycle seats and I’ll have to use a kitty litter tray to go to the bathroom?”
Mary, still standing in the middle of my bed, keeps a straight face as she explains, “No, I’m going to give your home a touch of class, and the first thing that needs to go is this disease-infested bed.” She turns over her shoulder to look at the cavities in the slatted wooden headboard to cement her point. “I don’t even want to know how they got there.”
No, she doesn’t. It involved a Russian beau
