backdated to Monday 5/14 - for Claire
Claude was, in a manner of speaking, working on the hut. He had some vague sense of obligation that if he was going to be living there he should be helping, but there was only so much of Peter's nattering he could take, and he lived in the constant fear that Gidget would show up just to swoon over her bare-chested Tarzan.
So Peter wasn't there, and Claude was sanding. Frankly, it was easy work, but it was something that needed to be done. There were all these sharp edges inside, the kind you'd get splinters from rubbing up against.
He paused and yawned, bringing his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His beard was starting to grow back a little. Short, yet, and just because he was lazy.
So Peter wasn't there, and Claude was sanding. Frankly, it was easy work, but it was something that needed to be done. There were all these sharp edges inside, the kind you'd get splinters from rubbing up against.
He paused and yawned, bringing his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His beard was starting to grow back a little. Short, yet, and just because he was lazy.