Brian asked, by the way who is Teri? I can't quote him because my AOL newsreader isn't seeing my own posts today.
Teri and I met at graduation at the community college 1986-06-13. She's my first lover, Linda's, sister. I'd just finished the best job I ever had, working at Aerophysics with Jan Bochenek and Bill Jackson as an experimental machinist, the last six months on co-op with the CoCo for credit. So I got my one year certificate in machine tool operation and Teri got her two year degree in Data Processing, and she asked me if I had somewhere to put her cigarettes, as she had no pockets under her graduation gown.
I pocketed her cigarettes, lighter, and license. We smoked and talked about Germany where Linda and I were a couple and Teri and I had met briefly. The good old days. I walked her to her car, gave her her cigarettes, but not her license, for some reason, and off she went.
I found the license later and looked on the back. I went 'round to the address but she didn't live there any more! So I looked up her last name and called what turned out to be the family home. I asked for Teri and said it was Doug. Someone asked which Doug. One of her four sisters. I said Doug Goncz. A voice in the background said "Oh! *That* Doug!".
I returned the license. We got to talking. She had a PC. 256 *K* of RAM! It would run 1-2-3. We spreadsheeted the location of local libraries and sorted by distance from my apartment. What fun. As it turned out Teri was paying off a large credit bill, living at home.
It was a little awkward having a "history" with Linda, but there weren't that many family events. Linda's husband, Angel, was muy macho, though, and at one point swore he'd break my legs if I touched his wife. Silly man didn't realize Linda and I had agreed that would not happen the day she married him.
Teri and I have been through a lot together. 18 years, the deaths of her father, my birth father (who is my "uncle"), her sister, and my father. And thousands of couplings. We're notching the bedpost, so to speak, by marking the closet door in the new place. A fresh start.
After 20 years in public housing, spending first one night of three here at Teri's condo nearby, then two of three, then every night, then using my place mostly as a shop, we are taking the plunge and throwing our fortunes together, and throwing our property together, and throwing a lot of our property out.
We've painted, I've installed some telephone wiring and will soon install a LAN, and I've changed the locks and had cylinders repinned. We're down from five external keys to two, and two internal keys (were these people paranoid?) to none. Now I need to nibble a slot under the add-on dead bolt for a die plate I have that will forge the 1 1/4 cheapie lock hole to 1 1/2 to fit our Schlage cylinder, and we'll be down to just one key, and a mailbox key, and an entry way key. Simpler for everybody.
The work room is 9x9 and has an add-on box beam that does nothing, lowering the ceiling. It will hold my tiny, very high drill press / milling machine work table, the five drawer file cabinet I inherited from my father, the two side units of my desk, stacked, my Hollerith punch card tool cabinet, a metal bookcase for cast iron, and some of Teri's scrapping supplies. It's going to be tight. There's just room to build bookcases in the middle.
Pulling those staples is driving me nuts. Taptaptap, wiggle, lift, repeat. And prying the tack strip. But when sanded, we will see if that parquet is sound. If not, there's always vinyl. If it is OK, then certainly old wood is preferable.
And that's who Teri is. Aren't you glad you asked?
I tolerance everything and tolerate everyone. I love: Dona, Jeff, Kim, Kimmie, Mom, Neelix, Tasha, and Teri, alphabetically. I drive: A double-step Thunderbolt with 657% range. I fight terrorism by: Using less gasoline.