Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Parcel Arrives

  • Louise' Last Stand
  • Parcel Arrives

Last years Christmas gift shirt from the Lidgleys looks on mournfully, though with acceptance and humility; personified by Amy Winehouse, as I don this year's shirt, which reads "FCUK MOI?" It is "the changing of the guards" You've been through this before Amy, Don't pout; it was a great year...
The parcel which the Lidgleys of London had sent, arrived after the average wait of about 10 days.
Louise came yesterday and grabbed the last of her stuff out of my place.
She constantly ranted about her life and her condition and her present mental state and her outlooks for the future and her dreams and aspirations; and didn't once ask me about how I was doing.
We both left my place at the same time; myself, to go out and busk, and her to pull her cart laden with her stuff to her storage box, that she pays $189/mo. for.
She wanted to go the "elevator" route, because of her heavy cart, while I went through the parking lot.
I was in mild disbelief that she would reneg on her promise to pay me 20 bucks for storing her stuff; and thought about it, but didn't say anything to her. She was ranting enough about how much money she had had to spend vs. how little she had made, and I took that to mean "so don't even ask me for a cent."
Then, I realized that, having taken the elevator route, she would become stuck at the door of the smoking room which requires a swipe of the key card to go through.
I got to the lobby and said out loud to the security staff "Oh, shit, my friend is gonna get stuck at the smoking room, I'd better go let her through."
Not to worry.
"She's right here," said one of them, spying a monitor.
She had gotten through, gotten her way -probably banged on the nearest door and implored whomever answered to open the door for her.
Then she started to cuss me out for having left her in that situation. "You know, I almost got stuck back there!"
God, don't let Louise ever get stuck back there (in my building).
There is very little that she can do or say to ever set foot in Sacred Heart Apartments again through my agency.
Maybe some things do have to get worse before they get better.

 

1 comment:

Comments, to me are like deflated helium balloons with notes tied to them, found on my back porch in the morning...