Today, so far.
July 26, 20054:30 a.m. – 6:30 a.m.: Lying awake, trying to make sense of vestibule incident. How did he get right up behind me like that? I thought I was always on guard; where did my guard go? Ponder Freudian significance of man entering my vestibule without permission. Both of my former therapists would have had a field day with this.
9:00 a.m.: Wake up. Husband has let me sleep in! Good, good husband! Remember to keep husband around. Sondre Lerche would probably demand that I get up early to prepare his kippers. As I stumble to the bathroom, I step on something that reacts with a frantic whirring. I look down and GOOD GOD NOT AGAIN. I run to bathroom, hide behind door, and yelp. Husband quickly interpets yelp and runs to my aid, killing the waterbug dead with a manly stomp. Sondre Lerche would probably write a ballad about it as it chased me around the apartment.
11:30 a.m.: Finally drag child out of the house. He doesn’t want to leave. It's 120 degrees outside; I don’t blame him. But across the street is the supermarket, and in the supermarket there is food. In the refrigerator there are only moldering chicken parts and dusty, bluish bread. To the supermarket we go.
12 noon: Outside the supermarket is a woman gesturing angrily at the air. Henry wants me to hold him, and fool that I am, I believe I can reason with him. As I finally give in and attempt to lift him as well as 20 pounds of groceries, the woman is lifting her shirt and skirt and exposing herself to anyone who will look. Henry gazes at her disinterestedly, and she gives a show to the one person on the sidewalk who doesn’t register her actions as shocking.
I'm sure I'll have more later.
Reader Comments (26)
Wait, that would involve....carrying pockets of waterbugs. Never mind. Even if we used dead ones, it would still be kind of gross.
Ok, maybe he had a bad accident, which really is unfortunate and perhaps a contributing cause to the alcoholism, but this hook was sharply pointed a la Captain Hook. I may be mistaken, but that does not strike me as the current medical standard.
Then his sleeve slipped up and I see all manner of words tattooed there reminding me of the movie where the protagonist has a memory disorder and tattoos key words on himself to jog his memory. I noted a word on his neck as well.
I was determined to ride out the time in the interest of being non-judgemental, polite and celebrating diversity, but then he slipped his hook over the back of the bench as if we’re in the movies on a date. Seat change!
I don't blame you for being too freaked out by the vestibule incident - certainly don't beat yourself up for having let your guard down momentarily. After all, you were just entering YOUR HOME.
Regarding the suburbs - everytime my grandma scolds me for "going into the city" where it is "dangerous", I remind her that people get purse-snatched right in our area Target parking lot. I would no more deny my child seeing other walks of life than seeing the inside lights of Target.
I'm certainly not carrying them in my pocket!
Glad you are ok after the incident in the vestibule. The closest thing we have to that here is panhandlers. And they don't generally approach you though the mean ones will flick buggers on your windshield (j/k).
p.s. For the record, I'm half sorry to be sending this to you. I, too, am baffled and appalled by Star Wars mania.
Seriously, though. When that stuff goes down in NYC (as a former NYer) it really rattles your sense of safety. You should be really proud of yourself for going crazy on the guy, you didn't panic, you didn't freeze up, you just did the right thing -- got him away from you, and called the cops.
ps -- im sure everyone sent you the New Yorker cartoonhttp://www.cartoonbank.com/assets/1/120965_m.gif