I have been on hold with my mortgage company for the past half hour. I made a payment that went to the wrong account. I am so happy I checked to make certain the money went to the correct place. Just an annoyance. That is all.
Still holding while the lady checks to see if the money can be moved to the correct account. Seriously?
OK. 45 minutes of my life has just sped by while I tried to get something fixed that should not have had to be fixed in the first place. And the lady I was talking to spoke English, but she probably needs to update her library card. Sometimes what she said made no sense, at all.
But that isn’t what I wanted to write about today.
The end of the year is approaching and I am looking forward to next year. Even with continued Covid-19 scares and variants, I think 2022 will be very nice. You see, I just retired and am no longer working anywhere. What a fabulous feeling! I have a large house and have accumulated two room roommates who pay me enough in rent to mean that my working days are complete. And I am only 67 and pulled it off. RETIREMENT.
I stay a home most of the time because there is no Covid-19 inside and it is all over outside. I crochet, I am working on a novel that I will probably just keep to myself because no one reads my stuff anyway. I keep the common areas of my home cleaned, so yes, I will stay busy even though I am retired.
The first thing I thought upon waking was why am I still alive? The second thing I thought was the Harrison Space Ship Company was so going to hear from me and I would hate to be the CEO when they got my message. The third thing I thought was that I could really use a cup of real coffee and not that fake processed stuff they put in these lousy crafts. The fourth, and probably the most important question I had, was what the hell had gone wrong.
There were back up systems on back up systems. System redundancy was almost at extreme levels. Failure was supposed to be impossible.
But, maybe something else happened. Maybe it wasn’t craft failure at all. Maybe I hit something. Maybe something stopped me.
The emergency light glowed, and that thing would shine for an eternity. No comfort emanated from its cold stark light.
The life raft system automatically encased me in a tight cocoon that was designed to save my life, but not designed to keep me very happy, emotionally. The designers of the life raft had no aesthetics, whatsoever. A functional piece of equipment, only.
I did a quick sweep of the craft, visually. Too dark to see to the far sides where the emergency light didn’t reach. So, I did a sweep with the tiny sensor inside the life raft. Ok. I still had atmosphere, so I shut off the raft’s atmo and opened the face plate. Everything smelled all right inside my craft. No fires or melting equipment.
I spent the next fifteen minutes getting out of the raft. Anyone who has ever gone through the drill knows what a pain it is to extricate yourself. Still, it’s better than staying inside one of those claustrophobic contraptions. The extrication process reminded me of being born. Creepy. But, I noted it was easier to extricate myself in microgravity than it had been in the training facility on Chryse Planitia.
Finally, out of the cocoon and in the omnidirectional emergency light. Why were they so harsh and glaring? This would get annoying very rapidly.
Stowing the raft took me another half hour, but I had to get it out of the way so I could figure out what happened. Carefully returning the raft to its compartment meant I could put off running diagnostics for another few minutes. I know all the basic stuff. Everyone did. Anything beyond a singed wire or loose connector meant I am completely out of my league and I would have to call for a rescue. I had never heard of anyone ever having to do that and I didn’t want to be the first.
A touch on the master reset and the emergency light shut down in the same instant the normal cabin lights came back on. I heard the familiar hum of machinery and electronics. All right, the first hurdle was completed.
I reluctantly sat back in the chair, knowing if the systems failed again, I would be encased in the life raft, again.
Diagnostics showed nothing out of the ordinary. Everything worked perfectly. That should make me happy, right? Why did I feel like I encountered only the eye of the hurricane? Scarcely breathing, I waited a full ten minutes before I started to relax. In that time, I checked and rechecked the systems in my craft. Still, the computer could find nothing wrong.
Next, I ran the star charts trying to figure out where in the galaxy the craft stopped. The system wasn’t the Capella local star group, my destination. Point of fact, the craft wasn’t in a planetary system or star group at all. Rather, it hovered near nothing or rather that region between stars and planets where there are thin bands of hydrogen gas or stellar dust and little else. No cause for alarm because the Capella local star group was only twenty light years away. All I had to do was to get Fantasii going again.
I got out of the chair and looked around the entire inside of the craft, hoping to find nothing out of place before I engaged the time dilation drive. Nor was I disappointed. Everything was properly arranged and neatly captured by the cabinets and drawers and compartments. My recreational craft would keep me comfortable and happy for weeks. I have enough food, water and oxygen for a minimum of twelve weeks, far longer than most vacations lasted.
The time had come to get this craft moving. I sent the squirt to Chryse Planitia on Mars, to Aramis Station on Capella α 4, and a personal message to Doyle to his home in Florida, Mulitnational State of EuroAmerica, on Earth telling them my entire situation.
Without warning, I was knocked out of the chair by an impact and I fell off the control platform. Why did I fall, at all? Fantasii had everything a person needs to survive while on vacation except gravity. I should never fall.
My cheek hit the deck plate and I really did see stars and my left wrist ached terribly. I hesitated looking at it, but when I did, none of the bones looked out of place. OK. Probably not broken. When I got to Capella, a doc could take a look to be certain. I struggled to stand up and was thrown to the deck plate again. I distinctly heard the clanking of metal on metal and I felt movement, as if my craft was picked up by a giant hand and placed on a conveyor.
The angle was slightly off of Earth normal and I began to feel a little nauseous while I struggled to orient my brain to the sudden gravity and the sloping deck. At least, with my stomach lurching, I didn’t have time to be frightened or to wonder what was happening to my little craft. I was far too concerned with the possibility of throwing up my lunch.
I attempted to stand and found it only a little difficult on the canting floor panel.
Next I looked out of plasglas port and saw them.
I know it sounds simple when I write it that way, but I think my poor brain just couldn’t handle any more sensory input that was so far off normal. The three people who peered into the port were green. Really green, like ripe olives. Their paler green hair was fluffy and reminded me of feathers. They seemed to be proportioned correctly, with two arms, two legs, two eyes, one nose, one mouth, but they were taller and broader than a normal human. I guess what I am saying is, they were not human. I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what they are.
They were all dressed in a different costume, but they were similar in design. One wore a white tunic with blue pants and white shiny boots that reminded of old style patent leather. The tunic had short sleeves and big blue buttons down the front. It reached the creature’s mid thigh. The blue pants clung to the legs giving me a good look at their shape. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary about their configuration.
The shorter of the three had a short sleeved fitted blouse of a shiny black fabric that looked like Lurex. This one’s pants were also blue, but a much darker shade and they were loose fitting. This one wore flat black mules on its feet.
The tallest of the three wore green. A green shirt that reminded me of a t-shirt with long sleeves and dark green pants that were partly covered by knee high black boots that seemed to have a lot of large silver closures down both sides. I couldn’t resolve gender, so they all could have been male, or female for that matter.
They talked to each other, but of course, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I tried to remember the protocols for greeting aliens. No one ever had met a real non-terrestrial intelligent life form, so I really didn’t pay much attention during the classes, thinking at the time, this would never happen to me. I was going to totally ruin first contact. I had a sick feeling that I would do everything wrong. They seemed to be excited or agitated. I really couldn’t make that determination.
I knew they could see me, so I waved at them, a tentative small wave that meant everything and nothing.
The three stopped talking and looked at each other as if they were trying to see which one would offer an explanation for the gesture. For all I know I just gave them all a very rude gesture that insulted their mothers. Only after the wave did I remember that they told us to not make any gestures of that nature because we simply didn’t know what they would mean to another culture.
I realized I didn’t want to be an ambassador.
The three moved out of my line of sight and I could hear thumping on the outside of the craft. Were they trying to get in?
In a moment of panic, I climbed back into the chair and did a sensor sweep of the outside and found it to be an oxygen nitrogen atmo, very similar in levels to Earth’s atmo. Only the oxygen levels were low, so out there would be similar to standing on an eight thousand foot high plateau.
I must have been in a craft of some kind because there was no planet or moon in the area when I did my sweep to determine my location. But, my sensor sweep also didn’t detect a craft of any kind.
Suddenly, I had a choice. I could open the door and let the green people into my craft or I could hide inside, being fairly certain they couldn’t get inside because the craft was still in flight mode, which meant the piezoelectric skin sealed the hatch. I glanced at the status field on the control panel and realized I was still in stealth mode, too, which meant the craft should have been virtually invisible to the naked eye, but my guess was it could only be seen with a sensor array.
I hesitated for a moment and then shut off the stealth feature, revealing the hatch to anyone who was interested.
They knocked, just like a human would do.
I didn’t jump up and run to the hatch, but rather took time to put on my boots and to pull a pale pink tunic over my bright pink skin suit. I looked like a little girl with pink boots and pink clothes, but for all I knew pink was a power color for these guys. I combed my short brunette hair, decided to not put on additional make up and brushed my teeth. While I prepared for my first meeting with an alien society, I accessed my PC to find any information on first contact. I felt rather than heard the faint whirring as the PC that was embedded in my head worked to answer my query. A squirt gave me a lot of information and I would have to trust those who were more intelligent than me to give me advice about how best to proceed.
Why me? Why not someone else?
I pushed the sensor pad and the hatch slowly opened and I heard music. It wasn’t Earth music, but it was definitely music with an odd beat and strange sounding instruments. It was probably canned unless these guys took a band with them everywhere they went.
All three of them were standing outside of the door, not really moving. No one held anything that I would interpret as a weapon, so I slowly exited the craft, careful not to make any threatening gestures.
I stood about two meters from the three and looked them over as they did to me. None of us ventured any closer to each other. Now, what?
A claxon noise sounded and the three glanced at each other nervously. It scared the star dust out of me and they didn’t miss my startled motions or the fact that I took several steps backward toward the comfort of my craft.
As I looked around for the source of the sudden claxon, I discovered what I had not paid attention to, yet. I was inside a huge area that seemed to be filled with a variety of objects that I couldn’t even guess what their function may be. They were hanging from a metal framework in the center of the craft and on platforms at various levels in the huge room. In the distance, I could see others moving around the objects doing things I couldn’t guess at, but I assumed was a daily job. I turned around and saw the Fantasii was on a platform like a lot of other things, crafts, satellites?
“I wish I knew what was going on, here.” I said to myself and to anyone listening, although I was certain the three had no idea what I said.
They looked at each other. The one in the middle nudged the tallest one and then generally pointed in my direction. The tallest one took a step in my direction and said something.
The language didn’t sound even remotely similar to anything we had on Earth or on any of the Colonies or Stations or Moon Bases, well, you understand. These green guys were totally alien. Then I paused in my thinking for a moment. I was the alien. I was the one who didn’t belong. And for all I knew, the tallest green guy may have just told me he was going to eat me for lunch.
He placed his hand in the center of his chest and said something that sounded like “Sam.” I didn’t know if that was his name or if he was announcing his race. Ok. I am human and therefore, generally very self-centered. Being human, I would assume he told me his name. The least I could do is to return the gesture.
I touched my own chest and said, “Maggie.” That seemed easier than saying “Mary Margaret Shannon O’Herlihy.”
The medium one touched his chest and said, “Blaze,” and the shortest one said, “Reed.”
Now what? I repeated their names, pointing at the correct individual. “Sam, Blaze, Reed.”
Sam pointed to me and said “Maggie,” although it sounded more like “Mayzhee.” Maybe Mary would have been easier for them to pronounce. So, me Tarzan, you Jane was over. What happened next?
Finally, a female approached. She was as tall as Sam and was dressed in a similar fashion, wearing a black short sleeved t-shirt and black pants that fell to just below her knees. Her feet were clad with black mules that were very similar to the ones Reed wore. Her green feather hair was longer and paler than the male’s hair and her breasts were high and full.
Blaze began talking to her in his rapid, unintelligible speech. She watched me while he spoke to her and then she said, “Yorie,” while pointing at her own chest. I repeated my name for her and she repeated it by saying “Mayzhee.” OK. I learned the hard gee sound in Anglish was beyond their capability.
She reached toward my arm and I instinctively moved out of her reach. My panic returned in full force and I suddenly found it really hard to breathe. I was on vacation. I designed clothes. How did I get to be an interstellar ambassador? I didn’t want the job. I wanted to go back inside Fantastii and continue to my sister’s home on Capella α 4. I wanted to be back home with Doyle and my horses. Why did I let him talk me into going to Capella by myself?
She flashed some teeth in my direction and I wondered if that was their equivalent of a smile. I smiled back, however, I wouldn’t bet that it was my friendliest smile. Instead of trying to touch me she gestured and I took that to mean that I should follow her. The three men began bobbing up and down from their knees and their arms flapped a little. I didn’t feel threatened by them at all, so I took that to mean yes, or encouragement.
I walked in the direction of the much taller female—she was at least 8 feet tall—and realized that the gravity on this craft was less than Earth’s gravity. Maybe that’s why they grew so tall. There was less gravity holding them back. Because I was gradually becoming aware of my surroundings, I noticed the lights were tinted yellow, more yellow that is normal for Earth. I wondered if that was in imitation of their sun. Humans tended to duplicate Earth normal conditions everywhere, and these beings may do that, too with their gravity preference and their lighting.
I tried to follow Yorie, but she waited until I passed her before she started walking in the direction she had indicated I should go.
The craft was nearly a complete sphere, just like mine, except mine was about fifteen meters in diameter and this one was almost too big to calculate, maybe several hundred meters. When I looked closer, I could see that the gravity was along the outside edge because beings walking on platforms over my head were head down from my particular orientation. That was disorienting to me and I was suddenly assailed with vertigo. There was a handrail at about my shoulder height and I gratefully grabbed it, as I had seen Yorie do in a movement that seemed unconscious and habitual.
Everything seemed to be painted a different color and I felt like I was in a cosmic circus. It was hard to take in all the visuals because it looked more like a jigsaw puzzle with none of the matching pieces close together. Even that was wrong. To human eyes, there seemed to be no regularity or continuity. I concentrated on the walkway before me, instead, although the whole thing was colored in overlapping circles in every color imaginable.
I continually looked over my shoulder to make sure Yorie was still with me as we neared a compartment. When we were close, she said something and I turned to look at her. She made a sign with her hands indicating that I should wait. I think.
She stepped in front of me and opened the door to the compartment. The door was completely round, unlike most things humans created that tended toward rectangular lines. She stepped over the small lip and waited for me to enter.
This was a corridor that had a rounded ceiling like a barrel vault. All along the walls on both sides were pictures of beings with green faces and some symbols underneath each one that were arranged in a circle. I presumed it was a name or a title. The wall was painted with overlapping circles of every color and shade I could think of. Round yellow lights dotted the interior surface in apparently random order.
Yorie ignored the portraits. I stopped suddenly when I saw a portrait of my guide. Or if it wasn’t Yorie, it was a close relative. She saw me looking at the likeness and I pointed to her with one hand the portrait with the other hand. “Is that you?” I asked.
She bobbed up and down from her knees, then touched the likeness with her long slender fingers and said, “Yorie.” And then she added a lot more that I couldn’t guess at. I found Blaze, then Reed, then Sam and named each of them. She smiled and bobbed at the knees.
She motioned and I followed her, again.
We entered a larger spherical room with three more people inside. She pointed toward an older male—older in that he had a mature appearance, and said “Mack.” The older, more mature female she said was, “Darmo,” and then another young male was, “Hat.” She pointed to me and said, “Mayzhee.”
The oldest male began talking to me and I couldn’t even guess what he was saying. Then, he showed me a display that was obviously a star chart. I didn’t know if he wanted me to tell him where I came from or where I was going. I opted to see if I could find Sol on the chart. Their display wasn’t too different from mine, expect theirs was three dimensional while mine was still an old 2D display. I studied the chart for a few moments to get my bearings and then I pointed to Sol. The man passed his hand over a sensor array that flashed in many different colors and the display showed a close-up of the Sol system. I nodded and then pointed to the sun and said “Sol.” Each of the eight planets I named in order, “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune.” I touched Mars again and myself. “Mars is my home. I live in Chryse Planitia.”
I heard my voice played back for me, but I couldn’t tell from which direction. Then the man then pointed to the sun and said, “Sol.” I nodded, again. Then, he pointed to each of the planets and named them.
The display changed and he showed me a system that was in the Bootes system. Mack pointed toward Alpha Bootis and said, “Panna.” Then the fifteen planets showed in the system and he named each of the planets and then named the fifth planet, a small rocky terrestrial, “Baltimore” At least that’s what it sounded like to me. So, there was a planet named Baltimore in the Alpha Bootis system. I pointed to his star and said, “Arcturus.” He repeated the word and then smiled his toothy smile. Apparently Mack liked our name for his star.
He spoke to Yorie for a few minutes and then looked at me and touched the top of his head in a gesture that meant heaven only knows what. She opened the circular door and led me out. Once in the corridor, she allowed me to go first.
Within two minutes I was back at my craft and she pointed to the door. I stepped inside and she didn’t try to enter with me. The three men, Sam, Blaze and Reed were still there and they four just watched me. Yorie put her hands together slowly, like a door closing. I nodded and she bobbed up and down. Yes and yes.
I closed the door and heard the metal on metal clanging again and within a few minutes, I was free floating inside my craft. Fantasii was in the void, once again. I saw the immense sphere where I had recently been a guest floating away from me and growing smaller in the view port until I couldn’t see it at all.
Was that it?
Was there nothing else?
I was in the presence of aliens for only a few minutes… less than an hour and they were gone as quickly as they arrived. Who were they and what did they want? What did they do? Why were they thirty light years from Arcturus?
I felt a little uneasy because I told Mack where I come from. Should I tell someone? Would they even believe me if I could figure out who I should tell? I barely believed it myself. Hi, everyone. I met a craft full of eight foot tall green people with feathers instead of hair. Yeah, people would believe that. On the other hand, they didn’t seem like invaders. I would guess it was a salvage operation of some kind, but I could be totally wrong.
I began the power up sequence to continue to Capella α 4.
Before I engaged the time dilation drive, I received a squirt from Doyle. “Are you all right? Is there a problem with your craft? What is going on? Do you need rescue? We can be there in a couple of hours.”
I began a reply, telling him all about the green people. I didn’t finish before I erased it and replied, “Everything is fine. Just stopped to see the sites. On my way to Capella.”
A movement caught my eye and I reached out to pluck a portrait of the people I had seen on the craft out of the air. Mack, Darmo, Hat, Reed, Sam, Blaze, Yorie and some others I didn’t recognize were in the picture that was on a piece of metal and looked enameled rather than a photo.
I smiled at my souvenir, and then put it in the thigh pocket of my skin suit. In the years to come, when I thought my trip simply a dream, I could remind myself of them with my picture. I wondered if they would forget me? I should have given them a picture of me. Maybe they had some cameras or something on board and someday I would find my picture in the corridor with all the others.
I engaged the drive and was once again on my way to Capella α 4.
I was watching a documentary called Little House in the Forest on Rakuten Viki about living a simpler life. It was actually an experiment where the producers sent an individual to live in a tiny house in the middle of a forest somewhere in Korea.
The experiment was to see if the people were happier when they unplug from the city. They were not connected to the electrical grid, city water or city sewage. They had firewood for the wood burning stove and solar panel for minimal electricity. They had an outhouse. They were permitted to bring their own food and clothing–enough for 3 days.
The experiment involved So Ji Sub, the guy from the Korean Romantic Comedy Oh My Venus and Park Shin Hye the girl from the Romantic Korean Comedy While You Were Sleeping.
During the first episode, they mentioned a trend in Korea where people strive for minimalism. The narrator said that most people owned 8,000 to 10,000 things and only used 2,000 regularly. So, in Korea, people would challenge themselves to throw away 1 thing a day for 30 days and then post a picture of the discarded item on social media.
I think I will try this, however, instead of posting on social, I will post photos of the discarded items on this blog. So many things to choose from!
We all get older. I recently took some time to reflect on my life. I created a list of things that every woman should have. This list applies if you are 22 or 55 or 67. I also included a list of things every women should know.
Some of the things on this list were borrowed from Glamour magazine.
One old boyfriend who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
The knowledge of how to entertain unexpected guests and a house clean enough that you won’t be embarrassed when someone does drop by unexpectedly, but not so clean you make your guests uncomfortable.
A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
A youth you’re content to move beyond.
A past interesting enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
A set of good dishes.
A pretty journal and the time to write in it
A set of screwdrivers, a hammer and a lace bra.
Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
There are also some things that every woman should know:
How to fall in love without losing yourself.
How to comfort someone who is in mourning.
How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
How to find joy in the little things: A circus, a thank you card, a pretty sunset.
The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best dry cleaner in town.
How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
Where to get a picture framed professionally, who to ask for advice, and what to wear to a cocktail party.
That you can’t change the size of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
Why they say life begins at 50 and 50 is the new 40.
How to be comfortable when you are by yourself for an extended period of time.
Previously published material. Cannot be reproduced without written permission from the author.(c) copyright 1999 Karen Vertigan
As heaven puts on her evening gown of deepest blue, I think of you Anxious One that I have become when Helios rested from his charge Do you hear my song slipping from me with all of my earthly feelings? It soars high as Aurora’s hem on sprouted wings of rhyme and verse And flies whitely, in caressing circles, gently touching your smile My heart, clothed in a timid shroud, begs for release from its bonds To touch the soul of the music pouring from your mystic fingers Do you know that my love is growing in my restricted chest Until the moment it is released with a burst of brilliant words That challenge Nyx’s dark dress of despair and loneliness? If you are the dreamer in this night, then I am what you dream But when you awaken from your slumber, I am your need And I grow in my love, stronger when you think on me A Nova of starshine that waits in the vast silence of the dome For the music of the first kiss…
Published in an anthology of poems titled Connections: Contemporary Verse From Around the World, Sharon Derderian and Robert Lawrence, Editors, Iliad Press, 1999.
Allen looked deeply into Hannah’s eyes and moved closer to her face. Their lips touched, for the first time. Allen lingered, loving the sweet sensations that coursed through his veins and Hannah felt her heart race into overdrive. Time stood still for them. Seconds or hours could have passed and neither one would have noticed.
Allen moved away from Hannah a few inches and saw her eyes were still closed as she savored the tingling in her body. Slowly she opened them and he smiled at her.
After several calming deep breaths, Hannah said, “The kiss…”
“Yes?”
“Does it mean you want to have a relationship with me?”
He hesitated, wondering where she was going with her question. “I thought I made that evident.”
“Oh, this guy really doesn’t know. Not necessarily evident. People go around kissing each other right and left all the time.”
Allen frowned. “Do you? Go around kissing other guys right and left all the time?”
“Well, no, I don’t. I didn’t know if you went around kissing other girls right and left all the time.”
“Uh… no, I don’t.”
Hannah smiled at him. “Okay, then. Did that kiss mean you want to have a relationship with me?”
“What? Are we in middle-school? Did I just pass you a note that says, ‘Do you like me? Yes? No? Check one.’”
“Very funny. I repeat, did that kiss mean you want to have a relationship with me?”
He frowned at her and then asked, “So there are limits? Boundaries?”
“Definitely.”
“Kissing is okay, then?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of kissing? Any tongue allowed?” he asked, willing to play the game with her.
“Well, yes, but limited.”
“Limited to what?” Allen asked.
“Lips, but not passed the teeth.”
“So licking your tonsils is R-rated?”
“Yes, if I still had tonsils. They were taken out when I was two.” Hannah told him.
“Can I lick your cheek?” he asked.
“Is this guy some kind of pervert with a weird cheek fetish? Why would you want to lick my cheek?” she asked him.
“I don’t know, but it could come up. It might destroy the mood if I have to ask you if it is okay, later. You know, right before I actually lick your cheek. Better to get a clarification now. And I don’t have a cheek fetish. By the way, how long have you had this disease where everything you think comes out of your mouth?” Allen asked.
“Can you believe this guy? Okay. Touching my cheek with your tongue may be alright under certain conditions.”
“Got it. Use of the tongue is conditional. What about hands?”
“So, I am allowed to touch your hands. What about your face?” Allen asked.
“When you say touch my face, what kind of touch are you thinking about?”
“A perfectly pale pink caress.” Allen started to have a lot of fun with her negotiations. He decided to go all in with her game. “And your neck is okay to touch with fingers and lips?”
“Yes.”
“Shoulders?”
“Yes.”
“Can I lick your elbow?” Allen asked.
“What? Why? We have established you don’t have a cheek fetish, but is there an elbow fetish we need to discuss?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t have a reason now, but it could come up in the future. I just want to be sure. And I don’t have any kind of fetish that I know about. You can keep that thought to yourself.”
“So what’s up with all the licking? I am picturing a St. Bernard, here. And no, I don’t like doggy kisses.”
“A St. Bernard? Oh, this girl is giving me a headache! I am trying to discover what your boundaries really are.”
“Oh, this guy who wants to lick my cheek and my elbow!” Hannah put her fingers up to her the bridge of her nose as if she were really caressing an aching head. “Okay. Again, licking my elbow may be alright under certain conditions.”
“Conditional elbow licking. Got it.” He noticed her frown and felt her start to shut down a bit. He didn’t want the game she started to end, just yet. “What’s wrong? I’m making a list for future reference. Now, what about your chest?”
“Chest? As in breasts?”
“Well, yes. All guys want to know about breasts.” He gave her his most serious look.
“If I knew you were a typical guy and not very special, I may have called all this off. Pay attention, Allen. This is a very important negotiation point. Breasts are R-rated. Plus, it should go without saying that all genitals are R-rated, too.”
“I wasn’t even going to ask about genitals. But, what if we hug? I will be able to feel your breasts touching my chest through our clothes. Are you saying no hugs?”
“Hugs are fine,” Hannah smiled because she realized he was fully playing her game.
“Yes. Back hugs are fine as long as your arms and hands remain in the PG position.”
“Okay. Arms and hands in the PG position. Now, what about feet?”
“What about them?” She asked.
“Can I caress your feet?” Allen asked
“Only after I’ve had a pedicure. What about your feet? Can I caress them?”
“Only after I’ve had a pedicure. Can I kiss your toes?”
“Weird, but the pedicure provision still stands,” Hannah said.
“You will let me know when your next pedicure appointment is, right?” Allen asked.
“So you do have a fetish. A foot fetish,” Hannah teased.
“This girl really doesn’t know.” He took a deep breath and then said, “Any part of the body can be an erogenous zone if it is approached correctly.”
“Oh, my. Do we have to start our negotiations, again? I feel like Antony Blinken at the Middle East Peace Talks. Like I am getting nowhere.”
“Who?”
“This guy is totally uninformed. Maybe I need to re-think this whole romantic relationship. Antony Blinken is the current Secretary of State under President Biden. You do know who President Biden is?”
“Oh, ha ha,” Allen said. Then, “We have actually covered a lot of ground in our negotiations. Nothing red. Just lovely pale pink. That is a major breakthrough. Do you want to continue?”
“Continue negotiations?”
“This girl really doesn’t know. I meant continue with a romantic relationship? You do realize that a romantic relationship is much deeper than girlfriend/boyfriend.”
“Deeper in what way?” she asked.
“Boyfriend/Girlfriend relationships are like middle school relationships. ‘Do you like me? Yes? No? Check one.’ A romantic relationship involves the heart and real, deep feelings.”
“Deep feelings, like… love?” Hannah asked.
“Totally like love,” Allen said.
“Are you saying you love me?” Hannah asked him.
“Did you just go back to middle school? ‘Hannah, do you love me? Yes? No? Check one.’”
“Well, I’m not sure. We have to kiss again before I can answer your middle school note.”
Allen didn’t hesitate. He put his hand on her cheek and pulled her in closer. Their lips met again and he gently touched her lips with his tongue. Suddenly the kiss deepened and his other hand pulled her into a closer embrace.
Allen pulled away from her, leaving one hand holding her cheek and the other hand holding onto her shoulder blade so she couldn’t move too far away from him. “I’m ready for your answer.”
Hannah said, “Let me see. The note said, “‘Hannah, do you love me? Yes? No? Check one.’ The answer to that is ‘Yes.’ My note says, ‘Allen, do you love me? Yes? No? Check one.’”
“Hannah, I love you with all my heart.” Allen pulled her into another PG-13 kiss that lasted all day.
8:05 Up and at-em. Slowly. My body is stuck and I feel like I am moving through glue. Arthritis is to blame.
8:20 Finally made it to the bathroom.
8:45 Finished repairing the damage sleep caused. Stepped on the scales and gained a pound over the weekend. I am either eating too many chips or I am pregnant.
9:00 Dressed and made bed. See Mom? I didn’t get on the internet just to make you cry.
9:10 Breakfast gathered and brought into the office. No coffee today, because I drink decaf when I do drink coffee and not drinking coffee at all seems to be no problem. Besides, I don’t have irritating co-workers to deal with and no meetings in the breakroom that turn into marathon gab-fests.
10:30 Read the daily Bible text, Breakfast completed, perused Facebook, wrote a blog entry, checked email, checked to-do list, looked online for baby girl names.
10:35 Started working. The thing is, I work at home, doing a job that is sometimes boring and definitely tedious. But, I am saving my house. I call apartments all across the US, checking on apartment availability and pricing and then that info gets sent to the guys who hired me so they can set rates for the “daily pricing” system. Basically, apartments now charge as much as the market will bear, so no breaks on apartment rent.
12:30 Lunch break. Left-over fish fillet made into a sandwich with cheese and tartar sauce. Better than a McDonald’s fillet of fish.
1:30 Watched a guy on YouTube walking around Yokohama, Japan while I ate my lunch.
4:05 Finished working for the day. Highlights from working: Lady: I need your home address and your birthdate before I can provide any information. Me: I am simply looking for pricing and availability. I am not filling out a lease at this time. Why do you need my home address and my birthday? Lady: We need it to make sure you are honest. Me: I will look elsewhere.
4:08 Thinking about the lady I encountered. How will knowing my address and birthdate prove I am honest? I am baffled.
4:09 Turned on the TV.
5:45 Put my trash can out be the street for pick-up tomorrow. Watched an episode of Meet the Meerkats on Discovery+. And another. And another.
6:00 Ate cereal for dinner because I didn’t want my leftovers and was too lazy to cook.
6:45 Napped in my chair after dinner.
8:15 1 hour and 15 minutes of meeting with Friends on Zoom. One of my favorite things to do during the week.
9:15 Watched an episode of The Zoo. Animal shows are safe to watch. I am not old enough to watch anything that is rated “R.”
9:30 Got ready for bed. I used to just get into the bed, now I have to get ready for bed. I am older, now.
10:00 Read a book until I fell asleep.
10:01 Rudely awakened when I dropped the book on my face.
11:30 Read some more until I felt sleepy, again.
11:31 Put the book on the nightstand so I wouldn’t drop it on my face, again.
If you read all of that, I congratulate you. You have a great deal of perseverance and stamina.
I am pretty chilled out about most things. It is a perk of getting older, I think. Like water on a duck’s back. But, it seems when something starts to bother me, a non-stop rant may ensue…
Let me start at the beginning. There is a company who sends me emails several times a day. These are completely unsolicited and unwanted. I do not read them and I do not want to read them. (I am not going to name the company in this blog because I refuse to give them any free advertising.) I have unsubscribed from these emails, on average, twice a week for the last month. I always get the message “You have been unsubscribed. Please allow ten business days to process your request.”
TEN? TEN DAYS? TEN DAYS NOT INCLUDING WEEKENDS? Oh, for crying out loud. Any reputable company can unsubscribe you from their email list immediately. As in right that second. As in you-will-never-receive-another-email-from-them
This company I am writing about not only did not unsubscribe me at my request, they INCREASED the number of emails they are sending me by a factor of four.
Sidebar: You see, you have to open the email to unsubscribe and that flags their account, telling them I opened the email and therefore I MUST be interested in their product and/or service.
I assume the thinking is, if they send enough emails to me, I will finally be intimidated into buying their product or service and I will finally stop receiving their emails. I am not a fool Unnamed company. I know if I buy your product and/or service, I will NEVER get rid of your emails.
I sent them to Google and reported them as spam. Maybe that will work. Likely, I will get another increase in the number of emails I receive from these people.
The funny thing is, I don’t even know how I got on their list to begin with. Probably, my email address was sold to them by someone else. If I ever find out who that is, I will report them to Google, too.
This post is not about crocheting or writing. This one is about anger, as the title suggests. So much to deal with, these days. But, let me start at the beginning.
Anyone who follows this blog knows my brother died last June. In order to keep my finances in order without having to sell most of what I own, I decided to get a roommate who could pay me a small amount of rent monthly. I made a very bad mistake when I didn’t charge a deposit. I thought I was being nice. I thought I was doing my future tenant a favor. I tried to be a fair and reasonable landlady. What a mistake!
I found a woman in her fifties who needed a place to rent, so we agreed on a sum I gave the the grand tour of the house and she said she liked it. She signed the lease, agreeing to pay me month to month. Then, she moved in. Within a week, this woman started complaining about the temperature in the house. My house is 126 years old which means it is hot in the summer and cold in the winter, even with HVAC installed. She complained about several things she thought was wrong with my house: No insulation, builder’s grade carpet in the bedroom, only two electrical outlets (she forgot to count the one in the bathroom) and the water from the water heater was too cold, the internet was slow, she had to park on the street, and on and on ad nauseum.
I replaced the water heater because it was old and a ticking timebomb, anyway. I patiently explained the cost of insulating a old home and the cost of re-wiring and old home. She demanded lower rent. So, we renegotiated and I lowered the rent by $100 a month. In retrospect, I should have told her to get lost right then.
Accusation
Then, she began accusing me of going into her room when she wasn’t home. Every. Day. I told her I did not go into her room because I had no reason to go into her room. She installed a security camera and pointed it toward the door to the bedroom. This was apparently done the day she moved in, however, I didn’t know there was a camera in her room for a couple of months. She was bragging on a rug she bought for the floor and I spotted the camera when I went into her room (with her present) to admire it. I thought my head would explode, but I held my peace. Another big error on my part.
She began accusing me of going into her room when she wasn’t home. Every. Day.
The next time she accused me of going into her room, I suggested she look at her camera footage and she would know I didn’t go in there. That became my new mantra. “Look at your camera footage before you accuse me.”
Escalation
By this time, winter was approaching and she began to complain about the room being too cold, the water being too cold, me going into her room and me listening to her phone conversations. As for the last complaint, I went into my bedroom, which is upstairs and right over her bedroom, to change my clothes after dropping food down the front of my shirt. She came up the stairs and demanded I stop listening to her phone conversations. “What are you talking about?” I asked.
She demanded I stop listening to her phone conversations.
“I was on the phone and you went into your room to just hung out and listen to me,” she explained in her whining, complaining voice. What an incredible ego she had. Really? There couldn’t have possibly been another reason I went into my bedroom? She is too old to be an entitled millennial, but that is what she acted like.
I asked her through clenched teeth, “Is your TV on right now?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Stand in my bedroom and tell me what you hear.” I could not hear her TV in my room, nor could I hear her when she was talking on her phone in her room. She didn’t respond. She gave me a bitch-I-wish-you-would-drop-dead look and left. While she was heading down the stairs, I told her that I refused to sit in a closet and never come out just because she moved in.
She had her mail changed to a post office box because she thought I was reading her mail. She continually complained about me going into her room. She still complained about me listening to her phone conversations. She complained that it was my fault that HER Firestick stopped working because of my wonky internet. (I have no problem with it, whatsoever.)
As a side note, I didn’t promise 5-star accommodations. I distinctly remember promising a bed and a bathroom, kitchen and laundry privileges.
She nearly ruined my washer with using too much fabric softener and when I asked her to not use it again, she did anyway. It took me two days to clean out my washer after she left because the inside of it was covered in a sticky blue sludge that smelled just like her fabric softener. And I was allergic to it. when I did my laundry, inevitably, it coated my clothes. I had places that itched that I really didn’t want to scratch in public. I told her this. She didn’t care.
And then, the day before she left, she once again accused me of going into her room. My patience snapped and I suggested (loudly) that she check her camera footage. I suggested she stop making the accusation because if she asked me five months from now, I would tell her the same thing. “I did not go into her room!” I told her that if I HAD to do into her room for some reason, like the house was on fire, I would text her to let her know. I told her I never wanted to hear that accusation, again. She said, “All I want is peace.” I replied, “Then, stop your paranoid accusations and figure out, once and for all time, that I don’t care what is in your room and I have no burning desire to hang out in there when you are not home. I have a life and none of it includes looking around your bedroom.” My tirade was skillfully sprinkled with a few foul words and much longer than I included in this post.
She moved out the next day.
And after she left, I knew why she didn’t want me in her room and was so freaking paranoid about it. She robbed me blind. She must have had a pile of my things in a corner and she was afraid I would see them. The list of things she stole from me is as follows and in no way complete: sheets for the bed she slept on, 2 brand new pillows, the pulls from the ceiling fan, the light bulbs out of the ceiling fan, the bathroom set of cup, toothbrush holder and soap dish, a walking cane, a blanket I crocheted for her that she was supposed to pay for, another blanket I let her borrow, a 25 gallon plastic tote I let her borrow, a hammer, several screwdrivers, a cordless drill, kitchen utensils, an umbrella, and the key to the front door.
She robbed me blind.
Then she told one of my neighbors, who asked her why she was moving, that I kept going into her room when she wasn’t home and she had camera footage to prove it. That statement made her a liar as well as a thief, because there is no camera footage of me going into her bedroom because I never did.
And I don’t want to even discuss how nasty the bedroom and bathroom was right after she moved.
The Lessons I Learned
I will not invite someone I don’t know to live in my house, again.
And if I ever decide that someone can move into my spare room, they will give me a hefty deposit that I will NOT return until about 30 days after they have left and I have had time to assess anything stolen from me.
I will immediately evict anyone who starts to complain about my house.
I will not renegotiate the rent once it is agreed upon.
I will add $150 non-refundable key deposit and change the lock the same day a new tenant moves out.
Today is raining… well sprinkling. It has been doing so for the past 24 hours and everything looks drenched and as tired of the rain as I am. Birds are sulking, plants are dripping, water pours from the eaves of my house. Dreary.
But, watching the rain makes me think about all the things that I can create. It rejuvenates my brain as if the rain is washing away all the cobwebs and clouds I carry around inside. I feel like singing.
New ideas pop into my head: Make summer gloves and summer fingerless gloves. Make unique crocheted items and sell the patterns… not just the items. When I say unique, I mean one-of-a-kind pieces. Free form crochet. Interesting color combinations and designs.
I am not a crocheter who can sit and just crank out hat after hat to attempt to sell. I get bored with repetition. So, I making sketches of items in my little black book that I may or may not crochet eventually. The fun for me is in the planning.