That’s Entertainment

The contractor came and busted down the Sheetrock above my back door because it had swelled and the door was rubbing against it. So I watched him while eating my own face because I tend to chew my lip when someone knocks part of my house down. It’s not all done yet – the new Sheetrock is up and some of the mudwork is done, but he has to come back tomorrow (allegedly) and finish the mudwork, so I can then repaint. Sigh. Add it to the To Do List.

Two trucks decided to smash into each other at the end of the block yesterday morning. They snapped a utility pole in half. I am now one of those people who lives in the city and comes out of her house to stand on the sidewalk somewhat aimlessly and gawk at things like this. But also I called 911. Partly because of the accident and partly because it knocked out power. And cable. Out entirely for eight hours. Then the internet and phone came back, but the TV is still all scrambly. I called the cable company four times about it. Now they have to come out tomorrow between 10 and noon to tell me there is nothing wrong from my end. Which will be tremendously helpful.

Oh, I hear a siren winding down outside. Standby.

I’m back. It’s a fire engine. Nothing’s on fire, though. They knocked on a door across the street and down a few houses. No one answered. So someone is dead, possibly.

My neighbor down the street, Miss Ella, cracks me up slash terrifies me. I think I’ve mentioned her before. She’s old but I can’t tell how old, and she has absolutely no brain left in her head, God love her. Yesterday after the accident knocked out the power, she came out and started yelling “Hello?” up the street. This is basically how she asks people for help, since she doesn’t remember who anyone is.  I went to see what was up and she said, “There’s ringing! There’s ringing in my house!” I figured it was her alarm system, which it was. I pushed a few buttons while she told me her mother wasn’t home (seeing as how she’s been dead for 40 years, I’m guessing) and I finally just hit CANCEL and the beeping stopped.

“So in other words, I have to hit CANCEL,” she observed.

Sure.

Two hours later: “Hello?” from down the block. She had a mantle-style plastic alarm clock in her hands. Extra-large buttons. The alarm was going off. She was scared to push any buttons to make it stop. So I switched it off and explained to her how to do it.

“So in other words, make sure the alarm is off.”

Oh, Miss Ella. Please don’t turn on the stove.

I wound up held hostage by Mr. Z a few doors down. My gaybor had asked me to knock on the door to see if they want a tree from the city in front of the house. They don’t. Establishing that took about a minute. Getting Mr. Z to stop talking about any and all other things took another 59. Apparently, he stays up all night and goes to bed when his wife goes to work. Then he sleeps all day. So when I knocked at 1:30pm, I woke him. He was in pajama pants and a t-shirt and clearly hadn’t shaved in days. Three hours later he knocked on my door to show me that he had taken a shower, brushed his hair, shaved and gotten dressed.

He reminds me of Fred Willard.

Also he says completely inappropriate things. Such as describing his next door neighbor as (hand flop) and saying my next door neighbors “don’t want the federales coming to get them. They must know I’m the neighborhood gringo watch.”

Dude.

He’s suspicious of my next door neighbors because they’re so nice.

I’m trying to finish a book that I’m not enjoying at all. If you’re ever tempted to read “The Tiger’s Wife,” don’t. It’s this fantastical thing set somewhere in Russia or the Czech Republic (not to be confused with Chechnya… looking at you, idiots on Twitter) or somewhere like that. Something about a deathless man and a tiger/human and The Jungle Book. I don’t understand it at all and I only have like 80 pages left. I feel like I should just finish it so I have a shot at understanding it. Like I think the 270 pages of whatever-the-hell is going to suddenly make all the sense in the world in the last 80.

And the other day I realized while I was peeing that I had my underwear on sideways.

Yup. Crotch at the hip.

I don’t even know.

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12 thoughts on “That’s Entertainment

  1. Oh my goodness that last bit of sharing made me laugh at loud. Done that, though. And really, trying to figure out HOW you got your panties on sideways takes up way too much time. At least your week at home is interesting, even if the book isn’t.

  2. Wow. That was quite a bit of stream of consciousness sharing about what is going on in your life right now. And it sounds like you live on an interesting street, to say the least.

  3. I love your neighborhood. Doesn’t sound exactly like Mr. Rogers’, but I love it.
    Bet they’re thrilled to have cub reporter/ace blogger Singlecell providing the play-by-play for daily life.

  4. First, I like Miss Ella. She will end up unwittingly saving the day when she busts a burglar in progress by shoving a beeping toaster in his face.

    Second, THANK YOU for confirming that the Tiger’s Wife is a waste of time. I started it about 6 months ago and just couldn’t get into it. So I hit pause, shifted to another book, and I keep meaning to go back and resume it. But based on what you just said, I’m not going to just set it on my building’s front step and let some other fool pick it up. HOW DID IT BECOME A BEST SELLER?

    Finally, maybe the universe is suggesting you go commando.

    • OMG, you’re totally right. Miss Ella has already shuffle-chased someone down the street yelling that there was a fire (it was steam). She is definitely going to wind up being the neighborhood’s patron saint.

      I finished “The Tiger’s Wife.” Right? Don’t you feel like you should totally get it and be grown up enough to understand its alleged nuance and whatever? But mostly you’re all, “…the hell?” PS last 80 pages? Did not explain anything. Or did. And I just didn’t get it. I DID wind up singing “Bare Necessities,” though.

      Speaking of: my sister told me the other day she increasingly goes commando. I didn’t need that piece of information. Every time I’ve tried it I’ve wound up uncomfortable. Is that ironic or what? Thong: comfy. Bare ass: uncomfy.

      I am nothing if not complex.

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