We're just dropping in to say hi! It's snowing again. Do I live in Philadelphia or Vermont?! Jesus, this is really getting out of hand. I already feel trapped inside my wretched little apartment and it's just begun. We're supposed to get 18 inches altogether and tomorrow this little storm is apparently meeting up with another big bully storm to officially wreck shit. Sweet.
Maddie is a great indoor playmate but I'd like a non-furry friend to come converse with me. Someone who doesn't want me to throw them a ball for 3 hours a day. Someone who I don't attempt to groom like I did Maddie. She officially looks...weird. I took a bit too much off around her snout. I can't even do my own hair so I'm not sure why I think I can groom a poodle.
Feel free to come rescue me from myself.
By the way...The apartment next to me is rented by a 90 year old woman who is terribly senile. She wears the same dirty house coat every time I see her and it takes her a few minutes to recognize me when we begin chatting. She's endearing though. Especially when she's had a haircut. What small amount of hair she has left is parted perfectly on the right side with ringlet curls on each side of her tiny wrinkled face. (She's luckier than poor Maddie. The stylists at Super Cuts are more talented than I).
I heard her door open from my apartment so I jumped up to see if she was okay. See, I have this phobia of her being dead in her apartment for weeks and no one knowing it until her Meals on Wheels crew shows up to find her decrepit body. In response to my phobia, I can't help but pop my head out every time her door creeks. Tonight she asks me if I like ice-cream. I reply with yes of course. She asks what kind. I answer with every kind. Then I elaborate with telling her that lately I have been buying neopolitan. She says she can't have neopolitan because chocolate makes her dizzy. I ask her if she would like me to buy her some. She asks would you? I say ofcourse. She says what kind? I say do you like butter pecan? (All old people like butter pecan. Why is that?) She says yes. But she reconsiders and says she wants plain vanilla instead of they carry it. I say they most definitely do carry it. She says okay I'll give you money for it. I say no, my news years treat to you. (Yeah, I know, what does that even mean? It's February?) She says no no, I have to pay you somehow. I say no way I'll have it to you tomorrow after the snow stops. I close my door so she doesn't insist. A few minutes passes and there's a knock at my door. I am prepared to see my ex boyfriend who likes to show up unannounced for no reason at all. It's not, thank God. It's her! Little old lady in dirty house coat! She hands me three packets of sugar and a tiny bottle of milk. It's payment for the ice cream, she says. I close my door, laugh and hold the sugar and milk to my chest. What an adorable little thing. You know, she has told me before that her children haven't come to visit her in five years. She has four. Four children and not one of them has the heart to come see you? My parents have four of us. If my mother is an old (and probably miserable) widow and living alone in her old age, I swear to her now I will never allow her to die alone and have to pay strangers in sugar packets and milk to satisfy her sweet tooth. Same goes for you Daddy. And I hope if I have children, they do the same for me. Old people need love too. They're just like us but with wrinkled skin and lots more wisdom. That's all.