Forget about are you being served…
the true question is are you being played? I had a convo with a male friend about certain females he knows and whether they are playing him or not – one sends nutty text messages that are very provocative but says she just wants to be friends, another wants to be taken out to dinner but not kissed – it seems a little suspcious. I remember telling a man that I feared he was playing me, and when he said he had the same fear, I ran in the other direction. In the initial throes of a new relationship and not knowing the other person, mixed messages or confusion can cause you to think you are being played unless you progress to the next stage. But surely late in the relationship one doesn’t have to worry about these things? But maybe one does. Pishaw I say. Playing is for amateurs – I would rather use the direct approach, which has served me for half a lifetime. Plus, I am suspicious of people who are suspicious of me – make sense?
In the meantime, a non sequitor – on the topic of boredom – S and I were speaking about ways to overcome boredom and by happenstance I went online and there is actually a website that is called iambored.com – and instructions on it of how to turn a tampax into a bunny rabbit. Who said the internet hasn’t opened this vast collective intelligence for us to mine?
My contractor called me on the phone and sent me an email today – it was like the clouds parting with rays shooting out from behind. It’s distinctly possible that someone will be working on the LaLa tomorrow.
I inundated E with writings and musings this afternoon until she told me to slow down. She is thrilled with how fast I am moving through stuff – but then again she’s also unaware of my efficiency in accepting things for what they are once I realize what the hell they are. Silly me, I was waiting to be told what they are. The clear being led by the confused does not make a direct path – see above, I like the direct approach.
Tomorrow night is Nathan & the Zydeco ChaChas, then the first seder and we dance into the weekend that ends with an Armenian Christmas in Ponchatoula. No tampax bunny rabbits to be made yet.