Irrational @ MindSay

I just found out that some people in Congress were P.O.'ed by the a Hindu's prayer in Congress back in May. Here's what it was:

Let us pray.

We meditate on the transcendental Glory of the Deity Supreme, who is inside the heart of the Earth, inside the life of the sky, and inside the soul of the Heaven. May He stimulate and illuminate our minds.

Lead us from the unreal to the real, from darkness to light, and from death to immortality. May we be protected together. May we be nourished together. May we work together with great vigor. May our study be enlightening. May no obstacle arise between us.

May the Senators strive constantly to serve the welfare of the world, performing their duties with the welfare of others always in mind, because by devotion to selfless work one attains the supreme goal of life. May they work carefully and wisely, guided by compassion and without thought for themselves.

United your resolve, united your hearts, may your spirits be as one, that you may long dwell in unity and concord.

Peace, peace, peace be unto all.

Lord, we ask You to comfort the family of former First Lady, Lady Bird Johnson.

Amen.

Is that any reason to have protesters? What the hell is wrong with these people?

While I am indeed interested in seeing Spidey-Three, this was something else entirely.

Sometimes, when I've been pushing myself for a very long time, I take me-time at the end of it. Long bath, good book (unread book, taking me to other worlds), just let it all go. This would be my theory final - while it could have gone better, it is now over and done with, and I'm taking an evening to myself before I throw myself headlong into the next project.

To properly understand this story, you'd have to know my sister. My sister is gorgeous, expressive, and brilliant. Incredibly talented, with vast abilities for coordinating groups of high schoolers into coherent ensembles, skilled with maths, languages, sciences, and music out the wazoo. She is slender, generally quite graceful, has about four feet (an exaggeration, but it seems like it) of very long, glossy, dark-brown hair. She consistently has guys falling for her and chasing after her, and has little patience with any of them. She is everlastingly beautiful, and simply amazing.

My sister rather frighteningly presented a neatly folded king-size bath towel to me. Picture a maid, but with wayyy too much energy, and wayyyy too many teeth in that smile. She really was trying to be helpful, but I think she scared two days off of my life - particularly as I was only thinking about heading down to my room and snuggling into my bedcovers, and certainly wasn't expecting anyone in the hall.

My initial fright was well-paid-off, however, by her distraction. Because up on the ceiling over the staircase was a small spider.

I tell you truly, I have never known Santas to have any issue with spiders. I certainly don't - I rather like spiders in general, and even the occasional centipede rates more 'cool' points than 'freaky'. The one exception being if I suddenly find them on my person without a formal request - then I am inspired to lavishly perform what can only be described as the Heebie-Jeebie-Willies Dance. It's very expressive.

I have no idea why Santas reacted as irrationally as she did. In my opinion, he wasn't really bothering anybody up there, and while admittedly one prefers that small creatures remain outside one's castle rather than the alternative, it is my experience that spiders, when left alone, mind their own business.

But Santas seized upon this notion that he would come into her room at night and eat her. I have to tell you - most of the time, my sister and I enjoy a banter that isn't remotely serious. However, when she persists on an idea like this long enough, I begin to wonder if she is. In her fear, I mean - the spider itself, including legs, was not so much as an inch in diameter.

I pointed this out to her, pointed out that he didn't have teeth, ("Mandibles. Whatever. He's gonna eat me!"), that said mandibles were most likely not of a size to possibly break her skin, and that even if he DID take it into his little head to carry out such a notion, it would likely take him seven and a half years to complete it. In that time, I was certain that she would notice, and put a stop to this practice.

Now, Santas and I are alike in this respect - when she takes it into her head to be irrational, well, doggone it, she's gonna be irrational! And nothing you can say will change her mind on that - she'll simply switch to another illogical thought process and freak about this. I don't think I'm nearly that bad - I may have been at one point, but that was when I was fifteen. Fifteen-year-olds cannot be expected to make sense at all times.

Tomorrow is prom for my dear sister. And she seized on that. "I have to wear a prom dress tomorrow! And he's gonna see me and he's gonna be like, "Oooh, flesh!" " *mimics 'pounce'*

Regrettably, at this point, I laughed so hard that I fell into the wall. With my head. And didn't care. I couldn't keep standing on my own. If you've ever met my dear sister, you are aware that she has a unique talent for expressing herself, and methods both incredible and varied for doing so. Simply put, the expression she had when she declared, "Oooh, flesh!" was too much for me.

The kitchen is at the bottom of this set of stairs, from which my mother emerged at this point, wanting to know what all the hullabaloo was about. She listened to Santas' babblings, and my translation (this is a regular role for me, actually), and offered a few helpful suggestions about what to do about the ceiling's occupant. The individual in question, by the way, has done very little during most of this borderline-hysteria, except to dance about a bit when Santas righteously flipped the hall light on.

At some point, it is clear that a broom is in question. Santas had seized on the notion of squishing him with duct tape. And I do mean 'seized'. When she's like this, ideas do not come into her mind and she agrees with them. She latches on with all her teeth and claws, wraps her whole mental self around it, and hangs on. Nothing is going to dissuade her from this notion - except for the bit that to get the duct tape, she has to go down into the basement. Which means walking under the spider. Who has undoubtedly been watching her through this whole thing (if I had a crazy homecoming queen screaming in my vicinity, I'd be keeping a good eye on her, too. And backing away very slowly. But he was cornered. Which doesn't help.), waiting for her to come within range so that he could leap! And sail through the air both swiftly and gracefully, spinnerets trailing a lead line to pull him back to safety, but of course he doesn't need it, so sure is his aim. And he will land on her bare neck (it's always her neck), and scramble up into her ridiculously long hair, and thus safely hidden where she can't possibly reach him through this glossy mass, bite her as many times as possible across the scalp, in order to begin eating her.

I remind you all that this spider was A) less than an inch across, B) very high up in a rather nice hidey-corner and C) not moving. As far as spider-standards go, he was just about cute.

So, since duct tape was not a possibility, a broom was in order. Mom goes into the kitchen, comes back with one. This may be paraphrased, but only because I don't remember exact wording - the feeling behind it simply cannot be captured in text.

S: *delighted* "Great! A broom!" She of course greets it like Gotham City seeing Batman answer the signal. "What do I do with it?"
A: *amused but patient* "Well, I'd start by carefully going up the wall..."
S: *lunges into action*
A: *patient but amused* "Take off the dustpan..."
S: "Right! I knew that!" *busily works dustpan off handle*
A: *more amused than before* "Now, kind of sweep your way up the wall..."
S: *little brushy motions going up*
A: "Dear, we don't need to clean the wall, the wall is fine. The idea is to get the broom up there without whacking him."

I'm not entirely certain what happened next.

Wait. Yes I am. :)

Santas managed to get the brushes of the broom on the ceiling, and gingerly poked at Mr. Spider. He appeared slightly frightened, or at least discomfited by this, and scuttled an inch or so in another direction. Santas continued poking at him, her face slowly altering to a, "Hey, this is kind of fun!" expression. This changed, because she hadn't really paid attention to what side she was poking Mr. Spider from, and he scuttled about five inches in her direction.

She appropriately (and I use the word loosely) freaked, took a solid whack at him, which him to fall and the guard of the broom to come sliding down the handle at her. Whereupon, she screamed and dropped the broom.

I just about died. Really, I fell to the floor. Santas' persona is generally rather tough with a slap of sarcasm. At this point, we were no longer at borderline-hysterics. Nope, we'd left the border looong ago. Illegal aliens here, ma'am.

Mother responded at this point, investigating the scene. Generally, when she hears screaming, it's good to check and see if her progeny are the individuals emitting such frightful sounds  What she found was her middle child dancing and gingerly retrieving the broom, and her firstborn fallen to her knees with her hair over her face (I remind you that I'd just been in the bath, so it was quite untamed) producing sounds that I myself would not have been able to distinguish as laughing or crying.

I really did try to explain it, but I had tears in my eyes and couldn't speak. I have not had this much amusement in months. You should really see Santas in hysterics sometime. Once you realize that there's no imminent danger, it's ridiculously entertaining. A strong emphasis on the ridiculous.

Santas was certain that the spider was on the stairs somewhere, so she screeched at Mom, "No, don't come up!" The same to Dad, when he came up from the den where he'd been programming. She leaped to come flying down and clear the staircase. My usual approach, spiders or no, is to vault down by way of the banister and railing.

Again, certain that Mr. Spider is out to get her, she frantically searches the stairs. I'm now over half-sitting on the arm of the couch, trying to keep the laughter to a minimum. What? Go down to my room? Get dressed? Are you kidding? I'm not missing this!

M: "Y'know, he's probably hiding in the darkest hidey-hole he can find." Privately, I agree with her - getting thwacked by a screaming madwoman with a broom is enough to make any male seek cover.
S: "Oh, great. He's going to want vengeance!"
I am greatly amused at the thought of spider-vengeance, and offer no help whatsoever. He is of course going to wait 'til night truly falls, and everyone in the house is asleep. It's been silent for hours, lights are out, darkness softly envelopes his world. Carefully, oh so carefully, he will emerge, one tiny step after another. Carefully, quietly, he will silently climb the remaining stairs from his hiding place (likely behind the munchkin's shoes), ascending with equal ease over the horizontal and vertical. He will come to my sister's room, and pause just outside the door, listening for her easy, steady breathing (this is of course a myth, but that's a story for another day). Once certain that she is asleep, he will spread himself to slip through the crack between the bottom of the door and the shag carpet. Quickly, confident now, he will scurry lightly over the rug, and climb with ease the mountains of crud with which she surrounds herself (not that I can criticize - my room's a mess right now, too). He will ease over the edge of the futon, surveying her innocent form (*snerk*), and make his way softly to the pillow. And then...then...he will Have His Vengeance.

I used to tell her these things as I imagined them out. I'm such a brat.

Dad comes up with one of his uber-flashlights. Santas seizes it, and if you've ever seen someone who's both frantic and painstaking, that would be her searching the carpet on the stairs. Dad watched this for a minute, then headed back down. Again, she screeched.

"Dad!! Don'tleave!!! Spiders don't bite men!!"

I fell over the arm of the couch, faceplanted in the cushions. I think I got chocolate in my hair.

Shortly after recovering from that one, I headed down here, concluding that I probably couldn't take much more. So, if you want to know how the episode ended, you'll probably have to ask Santas. Personally, I'm guessing that she's moodily drinking tea in the kitchen with Mom trying to bring her back to rationality, and the spider is quaking underneath the floorboards.

My husband went for his annual kidney function check up at the transplant center.  The verdict, his kidney is now working better than it has in the past 4 years. His color is better and he is going out and doing things on his own now.  The difference between now and just a couple of weeks ago is  so differnt people who do not know what he has been through these past few months don't beleive it.

 

He still is having an issue with extremely low blood sugars.  He is having at least two episodes a week where his blood sugar drops into the 40s.  He still is not aware his blood sugar is dropping until it is too late and he needs someone to help him.  I hope he can manage to stay at home and go to his doctor's appointments on his own.

 

My sister in law has gone home. She left a week ago. She and my husband had a good time together while she was here.  She and my friend from O. were not speaking by the time she left. I am not sure what happened but it usually takes a lot to do something that gets my sister- in- law that angry.

 

My friend from O. returned to CA to her family there yesterday. I love her dearly and want the best for her. I want her to find happiness, but she is so out of touch with reality but I don't know if she ever will be able to find happiness. Her relationship with the man she came East to be with never materalized.  From what I can tell he did not make any effort to make it happen and I don't know really how much of a relationship there actually was which was a major reason for her to visit.  For the last 3 or 4 weeks of her visit she stayed locked in her room except to come out to get something to eat or to occassionally take me to work so that she could have transportation during the day away from the house. Otherwise she never roused herself before the afternoon. As I took her to the airport for her flight west, she mentioned several times that she really enjoyed being here and I definitely got the impression that if she could figure out a way she would want to move into our house.  In fact at the airport, since I had not volunteered another invitation to stay, she came right out and said, well even if you don't invite me back, I am coming back. So I said she was welcome to come back and at that point she wanted to set a time for her to come back, but I avoided that suggesting maybe the fall but she wants to come back sooner.  I don't know. In all of this I found that a freind I dearly love drives me crazy, who is so out of touch with reality I avoid introducing her to any of my male friends for fear of what intrepretation she will have if they show any friendliness or attention to her. I am sure she  will be lobbying to come back soon, but I just cannot deal with that thought right now.  Maybe after some time apart I will be able to deal with it.

 

And at work, I have heard nothing about the management certification course from my supervisor.  And I know that when he avoids a subject it usually means he has not stood his ground to protect any of us. Two others from our office when went to the training session in New York came back complaining about the otal waste fo time for the 4 days they were there.  The company spent a huge amount of money to bring these "experts" in to train us and it was a sales pitch for their books and  personal coaching activities. So I am sure I will have to waste my time yet again in this stupid program if I stay in this position or stay at this company.

 

My best friend is still searching for happiness with someone. I think he realizes the current gf is not the one for him but he continues to try to make it work for her sake.  I wish he could find what he is looking for but I don't think he knows exactly what that is. I love him.

 

On a more positive note, my sister has become a "granny" this past week.

That. Was a mistake.

I frelling hate how I let my ex get to me.

Highlights:
1) Bordelon and I broke up.
2) Bordelon and I don't interact for some time (understandable).
    -Upon returning to the same group of friends, begin to get the impression Bordelon may be getting involved in rather destructive behaviors
3) Confront him with concerns. First almost-fight. Definite serious discussion - learn that he is involved.
  (I have learned that I am not good at fights. A number of girls are capable of using these to remind the guy of who's in control. I can't pick fights unless I have a really good reason, and I can't cry on cue. No trump cards for Manders.)
4) General feelings of betrayal. This lasts a few months. Yes, it's unreasonable. It takes effort to mix reason and emotion well, and I'm not particularly experienced in handling exes and the emotions there.
5) Interactions gradually drop off. Difficult, because we were in the same group of friends.
6) At some point, conclude that Bordelon is not a positive influence in my life in any way, and I am no influence in his life. Determine to stay out of his life, and keep him out of mine.
7) Call his cousin once when I need a girlfriend's help. Unfortunately, get him instead. Proceed to inform him sarcastically that I want nothing to do with him. It was not a happy night.
8) Few weeks later, mutual friend mentions his upcoming grad party. I had not been invited - I figured he was respecting my wishes - but as it's an open house, make plans to come by for about twenty minutes to congratulate him, and then take my leave.

That brings us up to today. Let's go over today.

Much ado about planning with Air. I want to go to parade, Air wants to go to grad party. We compromise and agree to do both - parade first. I meet Air and her guy at her house - somehow I got to be the driver for today. Eh, whatever. I have music, Air's awesome, 't'sall good.

Go to pick up Tal. Tal has a BAC of .06. This is an improvement - she woke up this morning with a .10. Last night, it was a .22. Tal sober is what I affectionately refer to as 'psycho squirrel'. Tal drunk is usually trying to get into the pants of just about anything that wears pants. She's also got this interesting thing where Tal drunk and Tal sober can have completely different memories. You will get into an argument with her while she's drunk, and she won't remember it while she's sober. But once she's drunk again, she will pick up right where she left off.

Fortunately, it's gradually wearing off, so she's just kinda loopy.

We missed Thunder by two minutes, if that. I am very disappointed. Curses on Tal taking forever to come out of her house. She was sewing this morning. I didn't know Tal knew HOW to sew.

Did get to see a number of other decent bands in the parade. Air likes the Shriners, I like the bands, and Tal likes food. Tal wanders off to get herself a frappucino, Air goes with her. Adam walks by with his place-of-work float, throws me a pack of Ice Cream Skittles. Score. Kent is practicing his riflery stunts with my umbrella. He is wearing girls' jeans, because Air likes them on him. And Kent's just a little bit bi, anyway.

Tal and Air return. I share Tal's frappucino. Yum. I try Air's extra-shot-of-espresso-in-a-can drink. Not yum. I share Ice Cream Skittles. Kent and I have been talking about the bands and plans for our old highschool band. I do not like the caramel skittles. Kent does.

Tal's been getting grief because her 'black' friend has been visiting her at work. Air is black, native american, and caucasian. For the most part, she looks caucasian - but according to her school, her sister (exact same parents), is black. Big fuss about that awhile ago. She has skin like mine - freckles, pale, everything, and awesomely kinky hair. No, seriously - way curly, like it wants to hang in curls, and it always smells freakin' amazing. I'll come up behind her when she's on the couch and hug her just to smell her hair. She laughs at me.

Tal's frappucino goes into the pocket of her hoodie. She's been getting progressively loopier - something about sunlight out of a rainstorm is getting to her. She also does not care for loud noises - rather bothered by the fire engines. Best part was when musket fire sounded - she jumped four inches in the air, and then clung/hung on a stop sign, shaking. Hilarious.

We race back to the car. I would have beaten Kent if my pants weren't so loose, he would have beaten me if his shoes weren't so emo. Yes, that makes a difference. The girls give pursuit, but we leave them behind and arrive, panting. Air directs us on a rather roundabout course that's supposed to get us out of the town faster, but since there's only one bridge over the river in this town, everything is pretty much bottlenecked. We should have gone with the highway.

I'm not entirely certain if it's illegal to drive on a road that's closed off for construction, when you know that no actual work's been done on it yet. I believe that, at the time, my rationale was, "I'm the responsible one for these guys on every other thing we do - I'll go with it." Really, I do feel like the chaperone half the time. And I'm the youngest.

'cept for maybe Dani. Hmmmm...not sure there.

Anyway, after missing a turn because none of us saw the sign for it, we eventually shot through one little historic town (oops. I always forget about that hill.), arrived at my town's sister town. Drive a path I know way too well, arrive at Bordelon's. Woot.

John seems concerned about me lately. I've been getting a lot of hugs, and he keeps giving me these looks that either translate to slight anxiety, or general-John-weirdness. I'm guessing either:
1) He misses me, as we haven't seen much of each other lately.
2) The guy who's reshaped and repaired my psyche a half-dozen times knows me well enough to see when something's wrong that I haven't identified yet (he also has this scary ability to be able to tell (sometimes) when something big and bad is going to happen to me)
3) He's missing his girlfriend. Again.

Got to see Barrett, which was cool. Barrett and Brian were best friends all through high school. The night Brian smoked my van window with a bottle rocket, we sent one of Barrett's disc golf discs flaming and spinning into the night. Twice. He's a good guy.

More rowdiness. Again, I am reminded that I am a band geek, and not at home among this particular crowd. Sigh. Wish I could have played with Bordelon's cats - I like the kitties. Sophie's wonderful.

At some point, we sort of get kicked out, head over to Air's. It is clear that much drinking will be involved in this, as well as a fair amount of gaming. I am grateful that I already have plans for the evening. Drop off Air and Tal, head over to Joy's.

Good time at Joybradseth's birthday party. I begin to realize why Seth annoys certain members of Aires so much. Played Bocci ball for awhile. Had food, had dessert. I got to play a kind of Calvinball version of volleyball with a nice girl by the name of Leslie. Had fun.

At some point, Brad was playing this song he and a friend wrote. It felt like this was a goodbye party, that everyone here (particularly Brad) was leaving. And then I realized - no, wait. I'm leaving.

I haven't announced it at large yet, because I haven't been accepted yet at my school of choice. Usually one prefers to have set plans when one announces the dissolution of other plans.

Call Tony. His phone's off. No surprise - he'd said he wouldn't be free for about a week. It's rather amusing - I tend to plan all kinds of mischief and trouble to get into while the S/O is out of town and can't catch me at it. My S/O's in town, and I can still get into all kinds of mischief because he won't find out for another week.

Leave Joy's around 9:15 or so. Give directions via cell to Heather, who has gotten lost on the way. Stop at Air's to drop off a cd. I have never seen Bordelon or Brian drunk before. As he's sitting on a couch with his girlfriend wrapped around him, it seems to be fairly normal. Kent's having a rough night, not sure what's going on there. Head back out.

Freakin' frustrated about Bordelon. I almost head to Marigold City - my favorite place (since they hauled out my woods) to go when I'm frustrated or just need to think is by the waterfall there. I just sit beside it and watch the water run black in the night under the bridge, or walk across the waterfall and try to climb it. I like it there. But my concern for how much gas I've used today catches up with me, and I figure that, as long as I'm stuck with Bordelon on my mind, I'll go check out the park.

There's a park in the middle of our sistertown that Brian and I used to go to a great deal. Usually at night. It was a summer romance - chilliness was not usually a factor those nights. Went for a walk around the park, thinking back through highlights of memories.

Came to the overall conclusion that I'm happier now, and I've definitely got something better going on.

Call Tony. Phone's still off - poor rascal probably went straight to sleep after rehearsal. I should follow his example. Head for home.

On my way out of sistertown, John calls. Apparently his Spidey-sense is getting tingley - he's concerned for me and doesn't know why. Past experience shows that I should take heed when John's senses regarding me come into play. I assure him that I'm fine, just mad at Bordelon. He listens for a bit, and tells me that my opinion is fair. This should send off a warning to me - the only time John has ever disagreed with my emotions was when I was mistreating my sister and he reminded me of how important she was to me. For the most part, John is the one to encourage me in my more childish responses.

Air says I need to forgive Bordelon, or rather, that it'd be easier if I did. I think it's a little silly - he hasn't done any particular crime against me, what do I need to forgive him for? I feel betrayed for some reason, but that's nothing new, and it's pretty irrational.

Built-up anger over Bordelon. I should keep visiting him - I'd be an awesome athlete by the end of summer. But it's too dark for me to go skating now. That's my favorite when I'm upset. I like going by myself, because I don't have to keep it slow for anybody. I can start off on a hard, aggressive sprint, working off frustration. Settle down into my steady rhythm, and then I talk. Last time, I did eight miles, arguing the concept of "God's Will" to myself. This may be amusing for the other trail-goers - I get a little passionate about what I'm arguing, and sometimes people come up behind me and I don't stop talking to myself fast enough.

Arrive home. Talk with Mom, eat half a piece of tiramisu. This is the GOOD kind, not the stuff you get at the grocery store, but homemade by a Russian family we know. I can't eat a whole piece. Slightly concerned that I'm getting overconcerned with my calorie intake - last time I did this was in ninth grade, and I developed anorexia out of it. I figure, though, as long as I'm eating both breakfast and half a pizza a day, I probably have nothing to worry about.

Talking with Mom about how frustrated I am over Bordelon - I think I'm being unreasonable and illogical and can't understand it. Talk with Mom about what my sister has informed me regarding, "The girl next door." Mom informs me, "Guys fall like lead for the girl next door." Huh. Okay. Odd that I haven't noticed this before. Talking about the job situation, which does not make me happy. To me, it implies that Mom disapproves of my current job. To her, I'm pretty sure it's just taking an interest in what's going on in my life and showing that she cares.

Head down to my fortress of solitude. Want my shower. Can't have my shower - somebody's doing laundry. Computer goes flukey. Growl at it - I'll drop a note to Dad to have a look at it later. I've put this sort of thing off before, it ends up being a mess later on. Grump to myself because neither Tony nor anyone particularly interesting is on. Frustrated emotions, haven't blogged in awhile, rant about my ex.

It is not a happy night in Amandaland.

I grew up in a small town.  Very small.  So small that there was no crime to speak of.  People didn't lock their doors when they went out, on their cars or their homes.  It just wasn't necessary.  And to alter a familiar expression:  You can take the boy out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the boy.  It was years after leaving home that I finally got into the habit of locking up.  But I never developed the kind of xenophobic paranoia that lots of people have.

 

Case in point, my neighbor Tiffany.  (Tiff, dear... if you're reading this, know that I'm going for the humor... please take it accordingly!)  Now, she's never lived alone.  Her adult life, she's always lived with someone, usually a boyfriend, but at the very least, a female roommate.  Currently, she's alone.  And her paranoia is heightened.  Like this past evening, for example...

 

I'd agreed to meet a friend for dinner at 6:30.  At about 6:00, just about ready to leave, my phone rings.  "Are you home?" Tiffany says in a whisper.

 

I want to say, You called me at home. I answered the phone... what do you think?  Instead, I say "Yeah. What's up?"  

 

She whispers, "There's a guy out in front of my door. I don't know him."  

 

I'm thinking, Yeah.  So answer the door and find out who he his and what he wants.  But I can tell she's scared, so I look out my peep hole.  Sure enough, there's a guy there.  I can see the back of his head.

 

"I don't like this," she says.  

 

Now, I'm not sure what she wants me to do, exactly.  So I say, "Hold on," and put the phone down. Then I go outside. "Hey," I say. "Looking for someone?"  

 

He turns, reaching under his arm, and pulls out something that makes my stomach knot.

 

Oh, shit!

 

It's a Sacramento Bee.

 

"I'm already a subscriber."  Four little words would have shut him the hell up.  But no.  I don't think to say that.  Instead, I say, "I read it at work."  A fair lie. But not a good lie.  

 

"You work seven days a week?"  

 

"Yes" would've been a bad lie.  At least I have sense enough to realize this.  "Well, no," I say, then proceed to sidestep all his arguments, as he deflects all my objections.

 

It's a solid, and I do mean solid, three minute pitch.  And in case you didn't know, three minutes is a looooooong time to listen to a sales pitch.  He eventually resorts to pity. "You don't wanna help me get my trip to Lake Tahoe?"  

 

Lake Tahoe is two fucking hours away. Get in your damn car and drive up there.  "I do, but I'm not gonna.  You're very persistent.  Good luck."  

 

He leaves, rather abruptly.  I go inside and get back on the phone.  "Boy do you owe me big time."  

 

"I didn't know you were gonna go out there!" she says.  Well what did she want me to do? Just stand there staring at him through the peep hole?  

 

By this point, I'm going to be late for dinner, so I tell her I'm about to leave.  "You are? Me, too! Can you wait just a second and walk me to my car?"  

 

Jesus.

 

"Sure."

 

A minute later, we're on the landing between our apartments.  "He knocked, and I thought it might have been you, so I said hello," she explains.  She locks her door.  And the deadbolt.  Tests the knob.  "When I saw it wasn't, I got scared."

 

I told her I understood, even though I didn't.  I'll never understand that level of paranoia.

 

Three steps down... "I locked my door, didn't I?  I locked my door?"