For the first time I can remember, no one is sleeping in our backyard. No one is sleeping on our living room sofas. The trampoline is vacant. It's Thursday morning and absolutely no one is crashing at our house.
While steaming chard for breakfast, Cole and I counted up the number of people who have stayed at our house this summer.
29 people have crashed here for one night or more (not including romantic liaisons, we're talking sofa people), including Nate and Jill who were eventually brought into the rent-paying fold and David who washed our dishes all summer in compensation for his basement room.
Sometimes people ask me how many people I live with and I don't know what to tell them. Now, though, I can confidently say that in a battle of couch surfers versus housemates we would be outnumbered one to seven.
But right now, no one is here but us housemates. Does that mean summer is over or something? Do travelers scatter as soon as the rain comes?
posted by s.mirk