My friend Dan lent my boyfriend Dan a helping hand (and a helping VW bus) with the move. There are too many Dans in my life and it’s confusing. If I knew friend-Dan first, does that earn him the title of Dan #1, or should primary status be reserved for the man who steals the bed covers?
While Dans were loading up the Scooby mobile, I was taking a break, stretched out on the grass and Queens Anne Lace, thinking back to my high school love of The Cranberries and Dolores O’Riordan.
Something about seeing our couch outdoors made me start humming “Dreams.” It was half a life ago I wore cheap Elven jewelry and flannel shirts.
