I like the company of elderly black women. There were some here, but Clara, my favorite, appears to have moved out, or died.
I also like the lavish dress-up that some black women do for Sunday. I met one getting out of her car in the basement parking garage on a Sunday night. I asked her if she knew why the fire alarm had gone off that morning. (There was a kitchen fire directly below me, and I didn't even know it.) She said, "No, I was in church." Suddenly, I felt very small, like why wasn't I in church on Sunday morning?
I have no idea why I like such women. When I talk with them, it's like I'm talking with the salt of the earth. Maybe I should seek one out as a roommate to half costs. Better yet, marry a widow "rich" from her deceased husband's life insurance and pension. Wait. A "black widow." Mebbe not.