WARNING: Eye contact may cause unwanted conversation
Today makes the third day off work. Seriously, I need to find a way to make money doing this; screwing around online and in the process maybe hammer out a coherent thought that resonates with whomever stumbles up on my blog (either by accident or intention).
This mornin
g I had no inclination to do my laundry after Mancub left for school. No, what I fully planned was crawling back into bed for another hour or so. Then, once fully re-rested, I'd make a pot of coffee and chillax with the morning news. Oh, who am I fooling? I would have parked my carcass at this amusement box and goofed around on Plurk or Facebook with an intermittent perusal of one of the blogs I have listed over there ---------->
Maybe I should always plan on being Miss Slackerass because, rather than going back to bed, I put on clothes, sorted laundry and hauled my tuchus to the local gas n'sip/launderette. Small town living is just so freakin' peachy.
For a Monday, the gas/laundry facility was desolate. Just the way I like it! I know I come across like I'm an outgoing, friendly sort. Let me reassure you that all such notions are completely misunderstood. I am not a people person. I may be smiling when a stranger strikes up a conversation with me, but in my mind I'm stabbing them with toothpicks and wishing they'd just shut.the.f*ck.up. When my iPod earbuds are firmly shoved in my earholes it's a pretty good indication that I'm not willing to converse about some topical news item ... or worse, a topical ointment required to heal said strangers weird rash or the oozing pustule on the hind end of their Bassett Hound.
Go on and spew. I have nothing but time today. I'll wait.
I was happily going about my business totally delighted that I actually had enough quarters to feed the washers without breaking a $20.00. Go me! (Go Mancub's bank. Hush. He swipes all the change I leave on the tables. Mom giveth; Mom taketh.)
After the loads were complete in the washer and tossed into the dryers, I sought out my iPod. Still alone, I crossed the threshold to the gas station to get my free cup of coffee. FREE! I first played the games loaded on the iPod. Judging by my scores, I needed a second cupful of maple/butterscotch cappuccino. Don't ya love the whirring convenience store lattes? Hey, did I mention it was free?
So, I'm basking in my solitude with nothing but the hum of the dryers when a woman who couldn't be a day over 87 comes in with her little load of dirties. She's about half my size or more. I do not make eye contact. From personal experience, I know eye contact with the elderly can be detrimental, especially in a rinky dink small town. For someone like me who finds being mute an exceptional means of therapy, it's crucial: NO EYE CONTACT!
My jacket was hanging on a hook that was perched from the corner of the folding table. This acts as a barrier between me and granny groovy sneaks (she had on some bitchin' purple Skechers.) I could see her in my peripheral. She bore a striking resemblance to this Mr. Roger's Neighborhood Land of Make Believe character She kept looking at me. I resisted the urge to appear friendly by smiling at her. All I could think of was how eery the likeness was to Lady Elaine. Daniel the kitten warned me in my head, "meow-meow-meowmeowmeowwww"
I didn't have the volume turned up too loudly because I could hear her drumming her nails on her folding table. Then, she moved to the washer lid. *tappity tap tappity tap tappity tap* Back and forth she went from the table to the washer. GAH!
I finished up my folding without incident. By the time I was loading up the car another patron had come in. Like an anxious puppy, Granny Groovy Sneaks was pacing with, I presume, the prospect of a friendly conversation.
As I made my short drive home it hit me. Just like our aloof felines, I am quite similar. I want to be left alone until I want attention. I'll ask for it; demand it even. You'll know if I am giving you permission to talk to me ...
...I'll just rub against your leg and purr right before I rake my claws over your shin.
This mornin
g I had no inclination to do my laundry after Mancub left for school. No, what I fully planned was crawling back into bed for another hour or so. Then, once fully re-rested, I'd make a pot of coffee and chillax with the morning news. Oh, who am I fooling? I would have parked my carcass at this amusement box and goofed around on Plurk or Facebook with an intermittent perusal of one of the blogs I have listed over there ---------->Maybe I should always plan on being Miss Slackerass because, rather than going back to bed, I put on clothes, sorted laundry and hauled my tuchus to the local gas n'sip/launderette. Small town living is just so freakin' peachy.
For a Monday, the gas/laundry facility was desolate. Just the way I like it! I know I come across like I'm an outgoing, friendly sort. Let me reassure you that all such notions are completely misunderstood. I am not a people person. I may be smiling when a stranger strikes up a conversation with me, but in my mind I'm stabbing them with toothpicks and wishing they'd just shut.the.f*ck.up. When my iPod earbuds are firmly shoved in my earholes it's a pretty good indication that I'm not willing to converse about some topical news item ... or worse, a topical ointment required to heal said strangers weird rash or the oozing pustule on the hind end of their Bassett Hound.
Go on and spew. I have nothing but time today. I'll wait.
I was happily going about my business totally delighted that I actually had enough quarters to feed the washers without breaking a $20.00. Go me! (Go Mancub's bank. Hush. He swipes all the change I leave on the tables. Mom giveth; Mom taketh.)
After the loads were complete in the washer and tossed into the dryers, I sought out my iPod. Still alone, I crossed the threshold to the gas station to get my free cup of coffee. FREE! I first played the games loaded on the iPod. Judging by my scores, I needed a second cupful of maple/butterscotch cappuccino. Don't ya love the whirring convenience store lattes? Hey, did I mention it was free?
So, I'm basking in my solitude with nothing but the hum of the dryers when a woman who couldn't be a day over 87 comes in with her little load of dirties. She's about half my size or more. I do not make eye contact. From personal experience, I know eye contact with the elderly can be detrimental, especially in a rinky dink small town. For someone like me who finds being mute an exceptional means of therapy, it's crucial: NO EYE CONTACT!
My jacket was hanging on a hook that was perched from the corner of the folding table. This acts as a barrier between me and granny groovy sneaks (she had on some bitchin' purple Skechers.) I could see her in my peripheral. She bore a striking resemblance to this Mr. Roger's Neighborhood Land of Make Believe character She kept looking at me. I resisted the urge to appear friendly by smiling at her. All I could think of was how eery the likeness was to Lady Elaine. Daniel the kitten warned me in my head, "meow-meow-meowmeowmeowwww"
I didn't have the volume turned up too loudly because I could hear her drumming her nails on her folding table. Then, she moved to the washer lid. *tappity tap tappity tap tappity tap* Back and forth she went from the table to the washer. GAH!
I finished up my folding without incident. By the time I was loading up the car another patron had come in. Like an anxious puppy, Granny Groovy Sneaks was pacing with, I presume, the prospect of a friendly conversation.
As I made my short drive home it hit me. Just like our aloof felines, I am quite similar. I want to be left alone until I want attention. I'll ask for it; demand it even. You'll know if I am giving you permission to talk to me ...
...I'll just rub against your leg and purr right before I rake my claws over your shin.
It's the Leo in you, you can't help it.
ReplyDeleteI've always asserted that Lady Elaine looks like an old alchoholic lesbian burn victim. Daniel Striped Tiger, on the other hand, rocks my world. (I admit it, I have a highly age inappropriate love for Mister Roger's Neighborhood.) :) I'm glad that you avoided speaking to Lady Elaine of the purple sneakers!
ReplyDeleteI always felt that it was rather unfortunate that King Friday was the thirteenth in his family's line. And Sherrie's right. Lady Elaine did look like an alcoholic burn victim, though I always suspected spinster instead of lesbian. It's the bright red nose that reminds me of W.C. Fields and associates alcoholic with her.
ReplyDeleteI tended to find Daniel kind of annoying with his "Meow meow meow play ball meow meow." I was always more a fan of X the Owl, who I liked to refer to as Malcolm.
LMAO Miss Slackerass!
ReplyDeleteA few weeks ago I made the mistake of talking to an older couple on the streetcar b/c I overheard they were from my hometown. Next thing I knew I couldn't get the woman to STOP talking... grrrrr... My friend who was with me never made eye contact. She's smarter than me I guess!