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Friday, November 30, 2001

Urban Disclosure

Garrett* returned eventually. He'd left the jungle with an entourage and they came as far back as Paia (10 minutes from here) for dinner. I expressed mild dissatisfaction with the turn of events, though I feel not in a position to complain much since I haven't been quick to encourage the joint purchase of a second car, and in so doing am implicitly accepting all the burden of inadequate transportation. I just had expected a slightly longer grace period.

Garrett*, as predicted, found no hint of inconsideration in it. He had apparently told me on the phone that he might not be back until night, which I didn't catch, and he seemed genuinely content with the current culinary options available to me -- which makes sense given they are, after all, his selections: frozen potstickers, frozen shrimp, a (whole) frozen chicken, tortillas, full-fat mozzarella cheese, milk, orange juice, breakfast cereal, a couple of persimmons, an unmarked ziplock with some shreds of chicken or turkey in it, a long-expired container of fresh-style salsa, and two opened bottles of hot sauce finely aged and fermented somewhere between one and two years and through four or five refrigerators. I was in no way at risk of starving, per se. But I had been looking forward to something a wee fresher, having spent most of the previous day scavenging airport food.

Here I am in Maui, and I have not stepped foot outside this house since I arrived here 36 hours ago. Unlike our prior Maui residences, there is nothing within walking distance of here except more residential neighborhoods (and cane and pineapple fields).

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