Your lease is up next month on your windmill apartment, and you have to tell your landlord today whether you want to sign on for another year at a 4% rent increase. You just can’t decide whether or not you’re ready to settle down into a real relationship with one of the many women who come back to your windmill for a one-night fling and never return.
It’s not hard to get a woman to go home with you. You could do it every night if you had the stamina and the drinks money. “You live in a windmill?” they ask incredulously. You’ve heard it as a question so many times it’s hard not to ask, “I live in a windmill?” in response. Then they inevitably accept your offer to come see it. They know they’re getting married before they turn thirty (to someone else) and they want to have the story of the time they did it in the windmill under their belts.
But the next day, when you suggest a second date, the question from last night suddenly becomes the most obvious and self-explanatory statement they’ve ever made. “You live in a windmill.” Then they make a “don’t you get it, I could never move my things in here, what with all the whirring” face and call a car service. And you go out that night and find someone new.
So it’s lease time. How old are you now and how lonely does it get up in that big wooden fan? Ready to open up the possibility that someone might want to remember your address? Or is another year of hastily forgotten sex on the menu? You have to mail that letter of intent back today you know.
Happy You Live In A Windmill Day!