A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SEMI-SANE WOMAN 05-21-10

Canines…go figure. It takes a canine to make me feel stupid.
People, on the other hand, usually enforce my habit of avoiding them.

I’m outgoing. I try to get along. People engage with me in a delighted way .Most service people believe my effort is worthwhile and rewarding.

I do have human friends. They just mostly happen to be people in the industry of life. They are mostly employees of the stores I frequent.

 One day, I received a call Gerald, my friend from Home Depot.

“Hey, Susan, it’s Gerald”.

It was weird to have Gerald enter my home, my reality, outside of Home Depot.

How did he get my number, why is he calling me?? Is he stalking me???

Then I realized that the half-joint I smoked with my real friend, Amy, had put my head into a haze, a maze… a jar of mayonnaise.

 I put my phone back to my ear. I heard him yelling at me.

“SUSAN!!! Come back down here and get your wallet! I found it in the hardware aisle!”

 A second or two passes….

Then he chuckled. “You didn’t even know your wallet was missing, did you?” 

Dammit, Gerald, you fucker! I will never live this down!!! 

So, I began a humble slow ride. It took an hour to drive to the Home Depot, eight blocks away. I wasn't high anymore, I was embarrassed.

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Then there’s Miguel. He runs the liquor store at Sam’s Club, along with Debbie, a dear friend as well.

In fact, today, I saw both of them. Miguel was taking a break near the “Bags of Ice” cooler. He taunted me and I responded in like. Everyone laughed. It was quite humorous.

Then I exchanged banter with Debbie in the liquor store. I bought the usual, Canadian Club and Marlboro Light 100’s, in the box.

I received a call from Sam’s later in the afternoon. It was a message from “Shannon”, assistant manager (extension 110). I’d never met “Shannon” before. I did not consider her a friend.

She was nice in her message, but I sensed a hint of anxiety.

“Um, hi! This is Shannon!  From Sam’s Club! It appears as if you made a quite substantial purchase in the liquor store today…thank you for the business, by the way! But there’s a slight problem. The transaction didn’t get completed, so you still owe us money. Call me!”

She was trying to sound like a friend. I listened to her squeaky voice, it was getting to me. I wanted a beer, stronger and stronger. 

Instead, I went out to my truck and grabbed my wallet out of the console. I dialed the number. I was ready. I wanted to talk to Shannon.

I knew all calls coming into Sam’s Club were first met by the Liquor Store line and then redirected.

Miguel answered. I knew it was him. I’d just talked to him thirty minutes ago.

I’ve known him for years. I know all about his grandchildren in California.

He is aware that I am slightly crazy. We get along like peas and carrots.

I tried to disguise my voice. “Maaaaay AHHH haave extension 110, Please?”

“Susan, is that you? It’s Miguel! I recognized your voice...”

So much for my disguise, but I wanted to talk to Shannon, extension 110, just to screw with her.

“Um hey dude!! Heh, heh, heh, what’s up? Why are you calling me?”

“I didn’t call you, Susan, you called me.”

“Oh…yeah…you are correct, sir! What’s up?”

“Well, when you were in the store with Deb, somehow the transaction got erased.”

 Hmm…my deviant mind processes an opportunity…to be bad…and ruin my character.

“Get thee away from me Satin! You come in the form of me!”

How will I ever know the difference, this split in my soul?!

I was exasperated.  “Ok, I’ve got my wallet; do you want my debit card number?”

“No, Susan, you have to come back down here so we can do the transaction all over again”.

Dammit, Debbie, you airhead, no wonder you have long BLONDE hair….

“Dude, I can’t come down right now, I’ve got uh…things…well…uh...plans!”

I was tired and didn’t feel like driving, although Sam’s Club is just a mile down the street from Home Depot.

“No worries, Susan, just come in tomorrow.”

“Cool, no prob, yeah, k, later dude.”

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I do have “real-non-retail” friends, but sometimes I am completely bewildered by them.

I’m super diligent about my surroundings. I have a whistle on my keychain. I have a stun gun with a light on it that will put yours eyes out, for awhile.

So, personally, I don’t think stunning someone is necessary. I could just blind them and then make that scary, zapping tazer noise. That should be sufficient to scare off pretty much anyone.

I tested the light. I was blind for about ten minutes.

Then I put on five layers of coats and sweaters and had my 'real-non-retail friend', Donna zap me.

Nothing...Shit.

I took off the top coat.

“Zap me again.”

Donna winced and did as I asked.

Still, nothing…

“Dammit, Donna! Why did you buy this thing? It doesn’t even work!”

“I’m sorry, I just know how you are, you know? With the whistle and all…”

I hurt her feelings. “No, no, it’s ok. Let’s try it again.”

This time, I took of two layers of clothing. I was down to two sweaters and a tee-shirt.

I braced myself. “Ok, go.”

 “Are you sure?”  She was hiding her eyes, like she was watching a horror movie.

“Donna! Just do it, for cripes sake!”

 “OK, then.” She reached out and put it to my forearm.

 ZAP!!!

I fell to the floor.

“Ouch!! Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, Ouch! Mother of God! Please help me Jesus! Ouch, ouch!  Ouchie-mommie!!!!  Oh God!!! Help me!!!  Damm, damm, dammit!” Gawd, Donna! Why did you do that?? That hurt like a motherfucker!”

She looked at my writhing body and waited for my seizure to subside.

She came closer, gingerly. She looked down into my wild eyes.

She was trying not to pee. So every time she giggled, she turned it into concern.

“Because you told me to?”  Her saying this as a question clouded my mind with doubt.

 “Dammit, Donna, you know not to listen to me! I’m insane! Geez that hurt! Am I glowing? I taste metal in my mouth! Call Somebody! Call 911!”

“I’m sorry….again? Do you really want me to call 911? They may lock you up!!”

She was near tears by now. I’ve made her cry before, but this time it was out of laughter.

I lived through it, no thanks to Donna, I might add.

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So much for being ‘on guard’, with the whistle and stun gun and all… they don’t  work if I’m not paying attention, as I was not, when I headed out of the liquor store.

I was involved in a heated phone discussion with my partner Julie. Sheesh…when are they not heated? The phone discussions, I mean…

I arrived at my truck, unlocked it and was staring at the steering wheel; still heatedly discussing with Julie.

 Distractions such as this are not good for my defensive diligence.

In one single instant, I turned cold as sweat spurted out of me. Ten fingers (two were thumbs, of course) dug into my ribs.

I was being tickled and terrified.

After I landed, I let out a litany of curse words so loud, that half the parking lot heard me.

My animation and nearly leaping as high as the hood of my truck was plenty to draw attention …which, at this time, I did not particularly welcome.

It was Siena, another “real-non-retail” friend. She’s been my neighbor forever; I’ve scared her children every Halloween for years. She helped me re-build my roofs after all the hurricanes in 2004. I rewired her whole entire two-story house a year later.

 Everyone watched as I screamed every word in the book at Siena. They were all laughing with her and at me.

 “GOD DAMMIT, SIENA!!! WHAT THE FUCK??!!”

 She knew I was really affected because I never use the ‘GD’ word(s) ---- all other curse words are allowed. But I always get spooked on that one. I have been since 1974, when I heard Blair say it in “The Exorcist”. (I was convinced this was the main reason she got possessed in the first place… Captain Howdy, my ass.)

“And I’m loving you too!!” she said, as I hugged her tight.

At this point, I was just glad she wasn’t Ted Bundy.

 “Julie says ‘hi’.”… I was still on the phone…

 “Hi, back, Julie!” Siena motioned to where her van was, and headed in that direction.

I reached her van as she was unloading at least four hundred dollars worth of groceries.

 “I’m having a bar-b-que this week-end, for my dad’s eightieth birthday, everyone’s coming.” she said, rolling her eyes, feigning annoyance.

 I looked down at my feet. I could see my flip-flop tan lines.

 “Well, if you need any help, I’m only three doors down, ya know…”

 “Yeah, I’ll letcha know…”

 As I walked back to my truck I thought Hmm, everyone’s coming to the party…what am I, chopped liver?

 My so-called ‘real’ friends are either giving me a heart attack or a heart ache…

Friends…what are they, really?

If I asked my dogs that question, they would bite me in disdain.

(© Written by sjhunt-bloodworth 05-21-10)