After finishing “the Curious case of Benjamin Button,” I went outside to let Tucker relieve himself. We live on the third floor, and on the first floor, always out on her bench so we can never sneak by is our slightly neurotic neighbor. As she cooed over my dog, I felt compelled to share pleasant nonsense. She had a friend with her, and they both stared at my face, I’m sure they assumed subtly. I cried for eight solid minutes when Benjamin was deteriorating from boyhood to death, so my face was streaked with mascara and red splotchiness. Tomorrow there will probably be a rumor that my husband beats me and I just can’t hide it anymore.
This weekend and even my lunch break today was consumed with furniture and appliance shopping. It’s overwhelming moving into a space triple the size of what we’ve been used to: there will be so much empty space. Not for long, I’m like a kid in a candy store once you get me inside Furniture Row. I run around pointing out this and that, smiling all the way as if I’m high and trying to hide it. I found out my current bookshelves are now discontinued, but there are a few left, so I am in a dilemma over how many to order while I still have the chance.
There is a certain someone in my life who causes me a lot of grief. She is one of those types who thinks she knows everything, but in actuality, doesn’t know a thing. She will argue on any topic until she’s blue in the face, and then, with her last gasp, refute louder. Today she told me I was wrong, that “The Joker” was not by the Steve Miller band. Not even a week ago, she spent ten minutes telling me that no, Pacific time isn’t two hours earlier, it’s two hours later. Apparently now the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. It’s like my life is a bad episode of Seinfeld in which I’m trying to claw my way out of.
If only we could choose the people who somehow end up in our lives, one way or another. I can tell you one thing, my guest list would be extremely limited.