all i was able to decipher throughout the minute in which we spoke was the number 105, which i would then latch on to as though we might be able to forge a common understanding through that numeral and arrive at some sort of sensible outcome.
the conversation went as follows:
marvin lustbade[amid sounds suggesting he was standing on the balcony above niagra falls]: 105?
marvin lustbade: ok... 105.
oline: yes, 105. is there a package?
marvin lustbade: 105!
oline: there is a package?
marvin lustbade: ok... yes, 105.
oline: so, yes, there is a package for 105?
marvin lustbade: 1[completely drowned out by the niagra noise]5!
oline: shall i come down and get the package i think you might have for me?
marvin lustbade: yes, 105!
oline: um... ok.
so, throwing caution to the wind and intrigued by the prospect of seeing a lustbade, i went to the lobby, which seemed the only logical locale where marvin lustbade could have meant for me to redezvous with him to retrieve the package i thought he might have. but marvin lustbade was not there. marvin lustbade stood me up.
lindear and i have a policy of sharing every single inanity throughout the unfolding day. thus, she was immediately given a full lustbade report. the reply: Oooh, don't tell your mother.
and i think that was the most frightful thing to emerge from the lustbade episode. the realization that though i am a 25-year-old living on my own in chicago, paying bills and pretending to be an adult, my mum would completely rip the raven hair from my silly head if she knew i'd gone to the door to get a package from a stranger. so please, sir, if you run into my mamma, don't reveal my indiscretion. just leave well enough alone.