- 4:28 p.m.
so-- what a week!
instead of whining about the stress or the, ummmmm, did i mention stress? or the chaos... or the stress, i'll just talk a bit about one of the "am i on a hidden camera reality show?" moments:
Meet our neighbors:
I'll call them "Bill" and "Sue" in order to protect their identity. They have lived in this charming little enclave for almost 30 years.
They have cats.
"Bill" still works, "Sue" is an early-retirement Private School Principal.
I'm sure there are stories there. I'm thinking she was one step away from "taking them all out" when she decided to retire early and enjoy more of life.
"Bill" and "Sue" seem to have accepted the lesbian couple across the street (US! Hi!) and are always neighborly, waving, "hello-ing" and "isn't it a lovely day-ing". Fine folks.
They have cats.
"Bill" doesn't have much to say about much, but he sure says alot about not much. You see what I'm saying??
"Sue" seems on the verge of something awful, yet deals with it by always laughing nervously whenever a slight chuckle might be called for.
Oh... and, they have cats.
One day "Sue" was in her garage and asked if we'd like to see what she was "working on". I was worried. I always saw her "doing", but it was the "what" that I worried about. Something went on in that garage, I knew that for sure.
We walked into their enormous garage and discovered that it was actually their "workshop" and that "Sue" was into "Miniatures". She spent her days and nights working on creating "miniature replicas" of things. An inn in Vermont. A General Store. A Veteranarians office (They have cats!).
At first it seemed sort of nice. Then, as she reviewed the details, the precision necessary, the hours of tireless, thankless work, i realized it was creepy. Creepy in a sort of "what else you got in your attic" kind of way.
She talked about the miniatures.... and their cats. She was sweet, but again, the nervous laughter, the precision, the watching from the window to see when we'd come home so she could say "Hi", etc.
Miniatures, cats... and "Bill".
I felt scared/sad for her.
Cut to... THIS WEEK.
I pulled into our driveway and went into the house. Just as I was closing the door behind me, the phone rang. Very precision.
It was "Sue". She wondered if I had a minute for her. It was a busy, hectic day, so I sort-of, ummm.... didn't have a minute for her, but again, wanting to be neighborly, etc-- I told her "sure".
She was across the street and at our front door quicker than if she'd crossed the street from her miniature of the vermont inn to the miniature of the vet's office (note: that would be a tiny, tiny street).
I stood at the door, opened it and thought I'd talk with her safely outside the door. She talked her way inside (cats, miniatures) and we stood in the entry. Inside our house. Our lesbian house. "Sue" was inside and her eyes were darting here and there. Perhaps looking for lesbian paraphenalia or lesbian art on the walls or lesbian magazines on the coffee tables. Sorry to disappoint.
"Sue" seemed nervous. She had an agenda. How could I possibly figure in with the miniatures and the cats.
After some himming, hawing and "Well, you know-ing" she said-- let me just say it:
(please, not another invitation for a 3-way??)
She needed a therapist, someone to talk to... about things. She couldn't tell "Bill".
She knew I'd been in therapy (I had mentioned it previously to change the subject from miniatures and cats) and she wondered if I could recommend a therapist.
PLEASE DON"T MENTION THIS TO BILL, she announced, strongly. Okay Sue, during my weekly trip to the strip club with "Bill" I'll make sure we keep the conversation on cats (he doesn't really talk about the miniatures, just the cats).
I'm not mocking "Sue". Truely.
I feel for "Sue".
I feel bad for "Sue".
I feel bad that she doesn't have anyone closer to her that she can ask about a therapist then 1/2 of the "Lesbian Couple" across the street.
I feel bad because any therapist I know is sorta-kinda gonna be more gay-ish, and unless "Sue" is coming out of the closet or bi-curious or both, I don't have the goods for her.
I wish I had a "Miniature" of a therapist ...
So now....I'm under pressure to find someone for her. At least, in the meantime, she still has "Bill" (who we can't tell), her cats... and the miniatures.
p.s. you should see those miniatures.