Martha Stewart called this weekend. She wanted her CDs back (I borrowed a few over the past months while housesitting -- Susan Tedeski, Bob Dylan's greatest hits, Rolling Stones Hot Rocks...that kind of thing.) After a few minutes of discussion, though, I realized it wasn't the CDs Martha needed.
"The house is just too big," she said. "Could I come by?"
I know what you're thinking, but she wasn't hungry for my wedding tackle. This time.
No, she asked to sleep in my basement room, with the door locked. The basement in my house is more of a cellar, really -- dirt floor, spiders, no lights, tiny garden-level window.
What could I say to Martha Stewart? My stocks are doing really well since her release, so I set her up with a cot and a bucket.
It's been three days; she says she's having a great time.