Don't ask me, I don't know
Monday, 22 December 2003 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"I've Never Expected Metal Ships."*
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Friday I bought some Christmas stamps. Have you seen the new Christmas stamps? There's something very wrong with these reindeer—the one has antennae, and the other clearly stole those pipes he's making off with. Also, one of the Santas isn't ripe (the green one). Doesn't the post office know you should never pick an unripe Santa?
This is not just my imagination, the thing about the shifty reindeer—the woman who sold them to me pointed it out, too. I'm weird, but I'm not completely alone. (There used to be a link where you could see these stamps, but it's gone now.)
My mother called Saturday morning to tell me she's buying me a dryer for Christmas. I thanked her. She told me she's gotten a dividend check from Prudential for $147, and rather than just give me the money, she'll buy me a dryer. I thanked her. She said she's heard me say many times that I don't have a dryer, but it never really registered before. (Probably because I wasn't saying anything about needing a dryer, just stating a fact. Not that I'm saying I don't want one.) Anyway, we'll go shopping for a dryer soon.
Good, I'd like that.
We talked some more, said goodbye. I did whatever I did on Saturday.
In the evening, she calls back, to tell me she's buying the dryer through my uncle, who works for Sears and will get us a discount. She's spending $400. (Yes, in lieu of giving me $147, she's buying me a $400 dryer. Do I understand this? No, but I'm not complaining.) I said that that sounds good. She's talked to him, the dryer's being delivered on Tuesday. I'm not working Tuesday, right?
Um, yeah, I am, for a while (a while being an undetermined amount of time, since I don't know exactly how long I need to work, how much vacation time I'm short here). Oh, well, then I should call my uncle and talk to him about scheduling the delivery time. And while I'm at it, I should ask him how we're going to pay for this.
OK, sure. I hung up the phone and swore for a while, since I didn't want to have to put on my Little Monica Rose mask and talk to my uncle, it takes so much energy, I feel so foolish. I hate talking to people anyway, and relatives aren't better, they're worse because I'll have to see them again. I can't just make a fool of myself and disappear into the crowd.
Anyway, then I called my uncle and we made the arrangements. They'll be delivering it on Wednesday.
Great, better than Tuesday. I was quite happy, except for the having-to-clean-up-the-basement part, but that's OK.
Later that night, my mother called me again. The delivery day had been changed to Friday (I didn't ask why). That would be better, right? Yeah, sure, why not?
Do I sound unhappy about any of this? I feel like I do, and I'm not—I'm just tired, it's all exhausting, just thinking about strangers coming to my house and everything, even if it's only the basement. I do want a dryer; could they just beam one in? No? I didn't think so.
Also, I think my father has been reincarnated as a cardinal.
Really, there's this cardinal that insists he has to come into my basement. He keeps pecking at the window at the bottom of the stairs. He pecks so loudly, I can hear him when I'm upstairs with the door shut.
My father used to spend a lot of time in my basement.
If I didn't think he'd starve, or one of the cats would get him, I'd let him in. One thing I'd be sure of—he wouldn't be smoking down there this time. But it would be awful if my father was mauled by one of our cats. That would upset me.
Also, when I was searching my bag for the cell phone (don't ask), I found a fortune cookie. "The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly!"
Now, they can't be talking about Pat, because she doesn't get around well enough to "appear" anywhere unexpectedly. And if they're talking about Him . . . well, that would be unexpected. And now that I've been foretold of this, will it really be unexpected? (Yeah, I think it would, since even at my most we-are-one-with-the-universe, I still don't expect dead people to appear in front of me.)
That was my weekend. There were a few other things (like watching The Lemondrop Kid) that I'll write about later, but otherwise, that was about it.
*Jack Bellicec
-:- -:- -:- -:-
Friday I bought some Christmas stamps. Have you seen the new Christmas stamps? There's something very wrong with these reindeer—the one has antennae, and the other clearly stole those pipes he's making off with. Also, one of the Santas isn't ripe (the green one). Doesn't the post office know you should never pick an unripe Santa?
This is not just my imagination, the thing about the shifty reindeer—the woman who sold them to me pointed it out, too. I'm weird, but I'm not completely alone. (There used to be a link where you could see these stamps, but it's gone now.)
My mother called Saturday morning to tell me she's buying me a dryer for Christmas. I thanked her. She told me she's gotten a dividend check from Prudential for $147, and rather than just give me the money, she'll buy me a dryer. I thanked her. She said she's heard me say many times that I don't have a dryer, but it never really registered before. (Probably because I wasn't saying anything about needing a dryer, just stating a fact. Not that I'm saying I don't want one.) Anyway, we'll go shopping for a dryer soon.
Good, I'd like that.
We talked some more, said goodbye. I did whatever I did on Saturday.
In the evening, she calls back, to tell me she's buying the dryer through my uncle, who works for Sears and will get us a discount. She's spending $400. (Yes, in lieu of giving me $147, she's buying me a $400 dryer. Do I understand this? No, but I'm not complaining.) I said that that sounds good. She's talked to him, the dryer's being delivered on Tuesday. I'm not working Tuesday, right?
Um, yeah, I am, for a while (a while being an undetermined amount of time, since I don't know exactly how long I need to work, how much vacation time I'm short here). Oh, well, then I should call my uncle and talk to him about scheduling the delivery time. And while I'm at it, I should ask him how we're going to pay for this.
OK, sure. I hung up the phone and swore for a while, since I didn't want to have to put on my Little Monica Rose mask and talk to my uncle, it takes so much energy, I feel so foolish. I hate talking to people anyway, and relatives aren't better, they're worse because I'll have to see them again. I can't just make a fool of myself and disappear into the crowd.
Anyway, then I called my uncle and we made the arrangements. They'll be delivering it on Wednesday.
Great, better than Tuesday. I was quite happy, except for the having-to-clean-up-the-basement part, but that's OK.
Later that night, my mother called me again. The delivery day had been changed to Friday (I didn't ask why). That would be better, right? Yeah, sure, why not?
Do I sound unhappy about any of this? I feel like I do, and I'm not—I'm just tired, it's all exhausting, just thinking about strangers coming to my house and everything, even if it's only the basement. I do want a dryer; could they just beam one in? No? I didn't think so.
Also, I think my father has been reincarnated as a cardinal.
Really, there's this cardinal that insists he has to come into my basement. He keeps pecking at the window at the bottom of the stairs. He pecks so loudly, I can hear him when I'm upstairs with the door shut.
My father used to spend a lot of time in my basement.
If I didn't think he'd starve, or one of the cats would get him, I'd let him in. One thing I'd be sure of—he wouldn't be smoking down there this time. But it would be awful if my father was mauled by one of our cats. That would upset me.
Also, when I was searching my bag for the cell phone (don't ask), I found a fortune cookie. "The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly!"
Now, they can't be talking about Pat, because she doesn't get around well enough to "appear" anywhere unexpectedly. And if they're talking about Him . . . well, that would be unexpected. And now that I've been foretold of this, will it really be unexpected? (Yeah, I think it would, since even at my most we-are-one-with-the-universe, I still don't expect dead people to appear in front of me.)
That was my weekend. There were a few other things (like watching The Lemondrop Kid) that I'll write about later, but otherwise, that was about it.
*Jack Bellicec