The Ice Queen Cometh
Yesterday was a vision of life on the geriatric track and then some.
Morning time Arlene pee’d on herself three times.
After spin class, I was on an errand rampage – Target for paper goods and a Brita for mom, to help her kick the Kentwood habit. The watch shop for a battery for my heart monitor watch since I’m back in the saddle again. A pot to put the Norfolk Pine the boys gave us. Whole Foods to pick up my brass pass and some daffodils for mom plus an oyster poboy. Then I raced by her apartment and dropped off stuff, but she was in a mood – crying and saying she’s sick but unable to tell me what except the doctor is going to put her on antidepressants. THANK GOD, I thought.
I ran home because I was already late for volunteering at the festival and Arlene had gotten trapped under the guest bed and had pee’d all over herself and was moo’ing when I walked in the door. So I had to rescue her, wash her, move the bed, clean all of it.
I thought – what the hell?
Then I raced through a shower and headed to the festival where my assignment was to pour wine. I got there and jumped behind the table and said to the woman already there, I’m here to help. And she scowled at me. For the next hour and a half, the woman acted like I had pee’d in her pool. I was in shock. We’re volunteering, I wanted to say, but decided instead when she continued with this Ice Princess I Rule the Wine Stand behavior that FUCK HER and so I directed all my energy of goodness out to the crowd.
At last, she said to me thinly, “You know I don’t need you here, I can do this myself.” And I said, See You, Wouldn’t Want to be You and was out of there faster than a jackrabbit.