Friday, Oct. 25, 2002 - 3:12 p.m.

7:00 a.m. Gym.

Garloo: How �bout that game last night.

Mr. World: Yeah, Giants 12 to 4.

Garloo: Giants 16 to 4!

Mr. World: No way, it was 12 to 4.

Garloo: It might not have been sixteen but it was definitely somewhere in the teens.

Mr. World: Twelve�s a teen.

8:45 a.m. The Closet by Design installation team of Horatio and Julio arrived earlier than usual. I wonder, could my coffee be that good? I ran to the door with the anticipation of a guy hoping this closet door that cost him way too much money five months ago was finally getting it fix and fixed to satisfaction. I was met by the smiling tattooed faces of my dos amigos. Julio seemed to have a nasty cut on his jaw and as my fantasy of barrio riots, gang wars and battered husband syndrome raced through my mind Julio offered up, "Chaving." With the knowing wink of an insider, a homey, a mi familia I replied, "Right." As per usual they carried with them the latest effort in closet door replacements.

8:50 a.m. Before I�d let them commence work I took Horatio�s hand in my left and Julio�s in my right and on our knees, in unison, prayed to Our Lady of Guadeloupe that this endless Closet by Design nightmare would be over. Julio told me that a lot of men in prison have Our Lady of Guadeloupe tattooed on their tailbones in hopes of avoiding unwanted activity back there. I asked Julio if I could see his. He told me he didn�t have one and as the boys arose to start working on the closet I held onto their hands for just a second longer as I asked Ms. Guadeloupe for one last thing.

9:13 a.m. The bedroom was a hotbed of activity. Alive with drilling and pounding (not the good kind).

9:35 a.m. As Horatio escorted me into the bedroom to behold their handwork I had to hand it to them, they were right, the sixth time was indeed the charm. The door, although not the same height as the other one or the same color or even the same wood, was adequate enough for me to live with.

9:55 a.m. This was it. Horatio and Julio were about to leave maybe even for good. Sure, they said they�d stay in touch. Sure, they said they�d miss our Friday mornings together. Sure, they said adios before but they always came back. As I escort them out the front door I willed myself to think of happier times. Like when Julio tipped over the Coke bottle of extra stain or when Horatio put the draw pull on the wrong side of door number three or all the laughs we had over the problems with door number five.

10:05 a.m. After saying, "See ya!" I went back into the bedroom to view the door once again and found that my dos hombres had left me something in which to remember them. A gift. A token. An extremely sharp homemade shive and a bottle of black ink. My very own do-it-yourself tattoo kit.

10:06 a.m. I ran to the balcony just in time to see their van pull away from the curb and yelled, "You like me. You really really like me."

10:10 a.m. It wasn�t exactly what I had asked Our Lady for but it will do me.

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