Every hour on the hour the phone rings. It says unknown number on the digital printout. I pick it up and a prerecorded voice tells me that I cannot place a phone call at this time. Excuse me? Finally at 8pm the phone gremlins are done screwing with me and I get the coveted call from the federal pen. By this time I have drunk most of a bottle of wine, cranked up a David Bowie CD and have created a new acrylic painting with my best friend who is hanging out with me lamenting the end of her 9th or 10th marriage. It has been a good day.
I push #5 and take the call. My lover who also paints is genuinely pleased I have not spent the day crying. We have budgeted 10 minutes for the call although it is tempting to go to the 15 that we can take but that will mean we will use up the 300 minute allotment and be incommunicado before the end of the month.
He has had a good day too. He got to sing in the choir and did 3 songs on his own. He has a fabulous voice and could have been a recording artist. The guys all clapped and cheered at the end. This is a good gig because he gets to practice for 45 minutes before the service on Sundays and it's an activity he can put his heart into.
I question him if the food is any better on Sundays and learn Fridays are the best - the weekend was mainly leftovers. He did get some mackeral though...yum. Was he able to spice it up I inquire? NO. BUT apparently at Christmas and only at Christmas they hand out packets of Chinese mustard. His cellmate, who it turns out is an older, despondent attorney has a few of these coveted packets from last Christmas. IF he doesn't use them before he gets out (4 months) he may leave them behind for my guy. My lover is extremely hopeful that he become the recipient of at least one packet of mustard.
Something to look forward to.
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