top_floor_bottom_buzzer fyn gula It was the wet pavement like a red carpet, and with merlot still wet on the lips like seven minutes in heaven, the iron gate creaked open and we stopped to admire the hybrid tea rose as trickling water became the seranade to a night like none other. upon the marble landing, we opened the massive oak door. this time we don't push the buzzer, monday morning? yes. but that's another story. 000427 what's it to you? who go blather from