Too Little Too Late

Things always seem to happen at the wrong time. Boyfriends, girlfriends, jobs, non-jobs. I prefer to call it shit storm, with the shit usually hitting in threes.
Well, this is hardly a shit storm, but is a case of too little too late. Ashley and I just met our new neighbor, a man in his mid-50's who has lived across the hall for a month or so. I officially met him last night, on our way out to our uncle's house, and he mentioned getting together for drinks tonight. Ashley arrived home from work to find a note taped to the door, so we took him up on his offer. His apartment is nice- every apartment in this building is nice. The architecture is gorgeous, and the units are huge! The building is in need of some serious updating and renovations, but it's historically beautiful nonetheless.
Anyway, he made us each a whiskey sour that could peel the paint off the walls. We spent the next hour talking about Wagner, opera, counterpoint, and Baltimore. Who knew! This man, who was born and raised in Charm City, is about as far from being a Baltimoron as you can get. His home is full of antiques and old opera LPs, and he's very softspoken and intelligent. He took a genuine interest in what Ashley and I had to say, and was regretful to learn we are vacating this place.
Too little, too late. I bet he would have come to my recitals.