No more Merchant Marine, and horny as hell.  Having my little love hangover. 

Moped around without focus much of the day.  Forcing myself to work on this horrible, horrible project I've got going that feels oddly like digging to China.  By noon I still hadn't showered.  We were supposed to be having our bathroom redone, but the workman's assistant called in sick.  I was too lazy to put the shower curtain back up, and decided to go to the gym to shower instead.

It's taken them over three months to put the warning up outside the sauna.  You know the one.  That says, basically, no funny business.  It made me wonder if some funny business had been going on and I hadn't been invited.  It's a dry sauna, though.  I'm a steam man, myself. 

But while they're warning us all against "inappropriate behavior," they've also changed the shower curtains. The showers are right outside the sauna, of course, and they used to have white curtains up.  You couldn't see through them, but they let the light in.  Now they've switched to dark blue, but, get this: they're sheer.  You can't see in from outside because it's darker inside the shower than outside, but from inside the shower, you can see out. 

Now, whatever.  But these are some mixed signals.  There I was this morning, minding my own business, having my own private shower, and suddenly the guy I'd seen on the treadmill earlier walks by outside in the all-in-all.  And he was much better looking naked, which is not often the case, so I was forced into unwilling voyeurism by these new shower curtains. I would not even have known he was out there if they'd left the old curtains up.

So there I was.  I was not looking to be turned on in a public shower, but help me out a little here.  Do you know how these things work?  It's a pretty simple device.  You see a hottie, and sproing!  It's automatic.  So I had to switch to cold water, which I did not appreciate.  And I got out of the shower feeling dirtier than when I got in. 

Sex makes you greedy.  And good sex makes you greedier. 

I could not get the Merchant Marine off my mind.  And then here's this naked runner.  And all that awaited me at home was more and madder horniness. So I decided to get my bike out from the basement, and go for a ride. 

I headed up the Minuteman trail, but left it at the old greenhouses at the intersection of Magoun and Whittemore, which I've written about before. This time I was armed with my camera and feeling arty, so I took some pictures...


I was surprised they weren't more of a shambles than they are, although they are a shambles.  But the more I looked the more I wanted them. All of them.  I was still feeling greedy, you see. Because good sex doesn't just make you greedy for more sex, apparently.  It makes you greedy for greenhouses, too. For land and chattel.  I think they might belong to Harvard, though.  And that's greed on an almost unfathomable scale.  Mine is no match.

There's an asbestos manufacturer by the name of Grace next door. I took some pictures of the building, careful not to hang around taking too many. You know, nowadays people think everybody's making plans to blow something up.  Or is it just me?  It gets so that you start to feeling like you are even when you're not. 


After that, I just rode around the neighborhood, taking pictures of derelict buildings probably all owned by Harvard...


And this one of the old Jardin d’Enfants, now the Ecole Bilingue, next to the Matignon Convent...


Every greedy little click of my camera I was like, "mine, mine, mine."

I took a circuitous route back home, knowing that all that awaited me there was stale news on CNN and the scent of a horny sailor in my bed. 

I guess that's what greed'll get you on a Monday.