LUXURIOUS ACCOMMODATIONS

I finally got fed up, with all the moving around.

I was sick to death, with all the different and very messy living conditions I found myself in.

I needed my own space, without other people in it.

I could no longer bear being exposed to, dirty toilets, unworkable showers, and to never being able to find something, that I had set down, moments earlier. I hated that shit!

One day, I found a pair of my panties roaring around, on the head of a guy, that was screaming “ Look at me, I’m Marie Antoinette!” He had been tripping on acid for three day’s and had completely lost his footing in reality, poor thing

The final insult was finding someone, using my toothbrush, to clean a stubborn stain, on the heel of their foot, and I yelled “Oh for fucks sake, I’m outta here!”

I grabbed my tatters, my purse with the little blue bag ( Which was now missing a toothbrush), and I blew out the door faster than a fart, blowing out of a ducks ass.

I hitched to town and went to sit by the river to reconnoiter the situation I now found myself in.

After doing so, I strolled over to the bank, and withdrew 100 tabs of my violet savings hoard, and then I went to Santa Cruz, to buy a one person tent at Army Surplus.

Before I went to Santa Cruz, I stopped in the town of Boulder Brook. It was next town down the hill from Boulder Creek. I had friends with means that owned a house on about 3/4’s of an acre of land, just outside of town.

My friends, Kay and Paul had dropped out, with a butt load of cash from their trust funds. They dressed like Edwardian royalty, and were always draped in tons of Indian pawn turquoise. They were really kind and lovely people, that just happened to be flush with cash.

I clambered to the top of their driveway, and arrived at the door of their gracious residence. I was invited in, given some tea, and a nice little toke.

After an hour, we got down to business.

They knew I was the only person that that could get their hands on, Oswley’s last brew. Those little LSD tabs were going for $10 bucks apiece, they were that rare. I had become their little, red headed, candy girl, and I was always welcome.

While visiting and doing the deal, I mentioned my changing circumstances and my plan to ameliorate said circumstances. I told them I was buying a tent.

“ Where the hell are you going to pitch a tent!? Well I told them, I figured I would find a clearing, somewhere by the river and potz myself there.

Paul, who was very British, cried out, “ You mad cow, how are you going to find a place, in which you can, indulge in your nutty grooming fetish?” It was a good question, to which I had no answer. They just stared at me, in dumbstruck silence.

Then, Paul stepped in with a plan.

He very kindly offered me a small patch of turf on the back end of their property. It came with an outside shower that just happened to have hot water. I would be able to indulge in my favorite activity, bathing, brushing and scrubbing. My mad skills in this area, were the talk of the mountains.

My plan was set, and I was on my way to Santa Cruz, to collect my temple of joy and delight.

For 4 months, the tent and that nice hot shower would become, my luxurious accommodations.