So most of the houses in Provincetown are uniform in their rugged timelessness, but there is one that must have just been renovated this past year. It's up the street from Adams Pharmacy, and from a distance you don't think much other than it is a large home for being in the middle of the town. (This is where "consumption of consumables" comes into play as I'm not a 'rememberer' of 'things'.) There's like, a Sub-Zero and a whirlpool bath and track lighting and this gigantic swinger's bedroom on the top floor. (All is learned not by snooping, but by asking the sweet and gracious owner (Chris?) for a tour. It's three in the morning and the house is a swirl of activity and the huge pool (POOL IN PTOWN) is full of naked fellows. I turn to my friend (an architect) and postulated that we were perhaps in Fire Island (we had been house-mates in the Pines) to which he clinks his glass to mine (or thuds probably as they were plastic). In time, we leave in a little group and return to our bikes and pedal toward our East End house, the "un-cha, un-cha" of this Fire Islandia in the distance of the lightly fogged night.