After 6-8 weeks of not hearing from my buddy Paul, I got a call from his partner today asking me if i have heard from him. I was in a stunned sort of silence when Fred asked me if I knew where Paul was. I thought for a second that perhaps there was a tif while they were out last night, as I know that has happened before at least once when one of them or the other spitefully did not come home.
Fred went on to explain to me that they were taken to a temporary apartment for the estate sale which had been planned by Paul's neices to help him liquidate some funds. He has been sorting through his many antiques deciding which he was keeping for months and the time of the sale had arrived.
After the sale, the neices showed up at the apartment with Fred's sister. In a nutshell, the sister whisked away Fred and the neices took Paul to rehab after just having sold everything. Everything. Including the Explorer. Including anything belonging to Fred. The boys were left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. And Fred was warned off, threatened with legal action should he ever again attempt to contact Paul.
I say boys. To be more accurate, these boys are in their 50s and 60s.
This conversation lasted all of 5 minutes, and then my cell phone went dead. Dead as a doornail. I plugged it in ti recharge hoping Fred would soon call back, and then went to sit with E in the library to relate the sage to her. We were sitting there pondering our collective disbelief, when the dogs all three are barking at someone in the driveway.
E, facing out, says "Omigod, it's Paul!"
This is not even five minutes after my cell phone had cut off.
The saga continues to unfold...