I spent today and much of yesterday helping someone move and using my superpowers of being untied to someone’s past and ability to move mattresses to accelerate things.  The power was cut off midway through the preparation of my good morning waffle and anger fueled what I lacked in carbohydrates.  At the new place, there was a lady smoking on the stoop with a voice that sounded like she ate cigarettes rather than smoked them and teeth that looked they had grill plates inspired by candy corn.  She asked us for our names and after 15 tries learned that mine was Terry, not Jerry, Larry, Harry, or any other permutation but during my final trip she realized I was wearing shorts and now has a new pet name for me, “sexy legs”.  I don’t know if I’m flattered or scared to the fact there is a crone-in-training in Maryland who knows me only as “sexy legs”.