My, oh my… It sure seems like time flies past me when there is much afoot in my life. This month has been no different, of course, and it dawned on me that I had a column to write when a wench commented about reading it. Since you might be wondering what has kept me busier than a lone slave at a paga sampling convention, I’ll toss you a clue. I have guests coming to visit during the final stadium event of the year in which the yellow and dark blue faction will match with the powder blue faction to determine a champion. I am sure that much food and drink will be shared, issues will be discussed, and those attending will have fine fellowship. I can only imagine what we’ll break, where in the yard the wrestling events will occur, and how many times the city guards will be called by scurrilous neighbors who have no concept of the pleasures of men. But making simple plans for the delivery of barrels of paga, creating lists for sluts to fill at the market, and writing a duty roster for chores to be completed are not the things that have kept me so busy. No, it was all that needed doing to prepare the cylinder for company.

     Let me begin last summer, when with a great error in judgment, I decided that I did not like the paneling in my living room, and removed it… along with hunks of drywall that decided they liked the paneling more than I. Since then, I have sent an assassin to deal with the inventor of "Liquid Nails", and done an amazing job of ignoring the shredded walls that were to become a serious repair job. Now, I do enjoy working on my residence, and I have worked in many of the building trades, but I am also a wonderful procrastinator. If you don’t believe me, ask Pantheus how much hair he’s yanked out while waiting on my articles that come in the night before the publish date! It actually took the thought of my friends coming to visit to prompt me to action. Is it because they would think badly of me due to the tenement condition of my walls? No, I simply think my friends deserve the best I have to offer. We will sip from a 15 year old bottle of sul-paga especially made for this particular year, that many who manage to obtain a bottle will set on a shelf just for viewing pleasure… A special thanks goes out to the free woman from across the sea that made the purchase for me and got it shipped here in time. But unless I got everyone drunk previous to entering the abode, they would certainly notice my lack of gumption in the home improvement department.

     There is a major problem with being a perfectionist and working on an older home… especially when the people who owned it previously were nitwits. When you start what seems like a small project, it continues to grow logarithmically until you completely renovate the room, or simply go mad. Hence, I avoided the walls at all cost, until… now. I have fixed the paper bag patches, spackled the wall, painted all the walls, put up wallpaper, installed wainscoting, trimmed the entire room, put up border, and even replaced the carpet in the bathroom so that my friends… can piss on the finest.

     Even though I worked hard to get the place in shape, I wouldn’t care one whit if it were to be torn asunder this coming week-end by Goreans who are rowdier than liquored up bikers in a titty bar after finding a wad of $100 bills. Why? It’s because meeting with them is much more precious to me than any new wallpaper or wainscot. I’ve already met most of the fellows that are traveling this way, but there will also be a couple that I will meet personally for the first time. And I will judge, just as they will, the validity of words and actions typed over the internet. The import of that event is incredible. Once I find someone to be as they purport on-line, I can take their word on matters and people of which they have contact. After some recent dealings… I am glad of that fact.

     Yes, it seems to have happened once again. Someone managed to fool many people, for a long time, on a medium that breeds this vermin faster than a pack of urts on speed. This time, however, it hit a bit closer to home. It was someone I called friend. It was someone to whom I had placed trust. It was… someone I liked. That kind of thing tends to gnaw at the fibers that keep me believing in people I don’t really know. It makes me look askance at those I have not met, or cannot gain the vouch of someone I know to be real. It makes me distrustful, and more than anything… it makes me sad.

     So, if it happens that we meet on-line, and I seem a bit cold, you might understand the reason. If, even after a time, I don’t call you "friend", you can simply chalk it up to the "fool me once, shame on you… fool me twice, shame on me" adage. After a time, I may do as I will this week-end, and open my home to you… just don’t expect me to open my heart until I look you square in the eye.