The person who invented car alarms should be arrested...no one pays attention, they are annoying when they go off at 4AM, and mockingbirds love to..mock them.
With that said, the person who invented air conditioners should be made into a saint. To walk home after a long ride on a train, hampered by two bags, a plastic sack with food in it, the terrier who suddenly is not feeling well, bringing on grumpy behaviour and constant re-adjustment in my lap, so that her theme song becomes The Byrds Turn, Turn, Turn... down the stairs, across the station, down more stairs, up the hill, schlepping through the neighborhood, dodging the stickball game, through the gates... the stairs seem insurmountable. I go up two sets, only to realise the terrier is caught, and I'll have to retrace my steps to retrieve her.
Free the leash, once more, up the ten sets of steps...I have bruises on my shoulders from my two heavy bags... I'm tired, hot, heartsore, it's airless in the stairwell..I swear I can feel a grove in the marble stairs where people have tread.
Finally....even the dog is done for. Door open, my usual OCD pattern is followed... lower locked, upper locked, shoes off, bags down, keys hung, leash off and hung, food in 'fridge, put the laptop on the desk and power it up on my way to the bedroom where I....
....turn on the air.
The rest doesn't matter. What matters is I put on my gray cotton tshirt that hangs to my mid thigh, that is getting thinner with each wash, that I should put away... I put it on, and I shut the door, and I finish out my night, knowing I'll open that door and will be met by the Arctic Circle.
I do not watch TV.
I do not cook.
I do not put on lights.
I run my AC for three hours to freeze my room, and that's my electricity consumption.
It's worth it... the fan goes in the room with me, I keep the door shut, and I stay cool all night.
I'm sprawled out on my bed, my gazillion count Egyptian cotton sheets beneath me because I am a linen whore... and I'm happy.
Even when the car alarm goes off at 4AM... it's why they sell ear plugs.
I went to our set today... it sits on the water in Greenpoint. Our wrap party will be on July 4th, on the roof... across the river from the barge that does the big fireworks.
Tonight on the way home, I became one of ....those people. You know the ones... that just when you are getting ready to sit down... you realise they are slightly off.. and you do that reverse squat, and move back to the pole, smiling politely as you wave an unsuspecting standing passenger your place instead....looking as if you are well bred, when the truth is... you don't want to sit by a crazy person.
I was the crazy person tonight. The Boss gave me a gre... okay, lets be honest, she was getting rid of a great suitcase, and I nabbed it. I'm a dumpster diver at heart, and I couldn't see letting this go. I sublet, my life is in suitcases...and this one has wheels.
I also had reached the place where I could no longer carry the new laptop bag. Sure, it's red... sure, it's pretty. Yes, I paid $23 for it, talking the guy down past his lowest price... and, although it's more than likely made of ThunderCat skin, it is leather. My problem is, I pack everything in the world into it, to deny needing a purse.
I believe I mentioned bruised shoulders.
I sucked it up, and bought a messenger bag, suggested by Weather Guy. With the dogs in tow, I perused the various open air shops off Canal, opting for the same place where I'd bought the ThunderCat bag. Fortunately, the owner was gone, and his bored son was in charge. He said he's sell me a messenger bag for whatever I had in my pocket.
I had $11.23.
He asked if I wanted the large or the small bag. Ahhhh, clever, clever man. I wasn't going for that, ohhhhhh no. No big bag for me. I'd be in the ssds....same shit, different shoulder. I bought the smaller bag. Sage green. Nice.
Getting the laptop into it is much like squeezing my size 8 ass into a pair of size 6 pants that don't contain lycra. I have to gently align the two items.... getting eye level as I place them both on a flat surface. Slowly, with the patience of a NASA astronaut, I prepare for docking. No..no.. the left side is moving too fast... ABORT ABORT ABORT.
After 15 minutes or so, I've got the laptop in, have squeezed in the cord and my MTA card.
The MTA card.
I also had the aforementioned suitcase shoved full of the items from the old two bags... the other bag being my script supervision kit... I had some food in a bag, and the grumpy terrier
And the MTA card in the size 6 messenger bag in a lovely sage green with a size 8 laptop docked on top of it.
Reaching the station on Canal, I'd managed to wiggle my flexible fingers under the laptop enough to slide the card up and into fresh air. Why I didn't walk the other block and force the guy to give me a larger bag...oh, right.. Dad was there by then, and would have a heart attack much like the father in Breaking Away (great film, btw)... "REFUND??? REFUND????"
Before I could go down... a gaggle of sain...gees..tourists screech, "LOOK! He's like BAXTER!"
And automatically, I correct them and announce he's a she.
As if she knows the difference.
I juggle the leash as they coo and cuddle and she looks with longing down the stairs... they follow, asking directions, which I give, and then proceed to block the turnstile causing me to miss the train.
I push forward, hey, I'm an expert at moving though and not getting stuck... I got stuck, managing to get everything but my suitcase handle which caught on the arm, and freezes it up. The girl behind me goes on and on about a card she's found... "Put it down," I told her. "Run your card, push the turnstile and then jump."
"Is it your card?"
"I have my card, see? There is no attendant. Run your card, push the turnstile, and jump over the way that smelly homeless guy just did."
She was from Minnesota.
It took some telling to get it though to her.
I drug my collection of items to the front of the train, trying to not look as harried as I felt, pulling the suitcase, with the shopping bag balanced on the top of the suitcase. It slide from side to side as I navigated my way to my seat, mumbling the entire time.
It was then I slipped into crazy person mode, a pair of glasses on my head, one on my face, a double handled shopping bag sitting on top of the suitcase resting against the pulled up handle, a messenger bag that slid around and a dog that was clean, but, didn't want to really be friendly tonight.
Inside the shopping bag was my food, my pungent Indian food, some of those great toasted almonds, a book and a Pepsi, and with the arrival of the train, I walked on, happy to be seated at last.
It wasn't too bad there, I dropped a couple of almonds, and would say, out loud, mind you... "Oh, I can't believe I'm dropping those." and, I'd kind of laugh. In an embarrassed way. The guy next to me moved slightly away... I can't blame him, to be honest.
Union Square... oh, I was SO happy... getting up, I dropped my shopping bag, reveling my curry, ran over the toe of the woman next to me with my suitcase, had the dog on a short leash, so when she jumped, she yelped, and talked to myself the entire time.
Oh, yes, I was a real peach.
Sadly, people on the same car transferred with me. I kept looking for Todd and his camera phone.
I had two choices... keep explaining it was a bad day, or go with crazy.
I went with crazy.
I grabbed the seat on the end, and piled my stuff around me, holding the dog on my lap. I looked like the 2007 version of Ma Joad in a peasant top and jeans with cute flats. I mumbled a bit, shifted my bags about, and when the guy started to sing because he didn't want to sell candy or pretend he was sick, I asked him not to.
He replied, "Why not? I was just singing."
"I know....that's why I want you to stop. This lady and I are talking (and we were) and we can't hear each other. It's rude. Please stop." I gave him a crazy lady smile.
I talked to myself all the way home, past the b-ball players, up the stairs and into the flat.
I stood at the window and watched the hunky firemen go into the building across the street... I didn't act crazy, but, I did stand there in just my long tshirt.
It was dark... still, I knew I was there.
Tomorrow I go back to being sane.ish.
There's a situation I want to work on... even when someone is listening, you sometimes need them to see the things you do, read their words, it's about the other senses, too. And, never, ever use the promise word lightly in regards to time spent. You get one chance with that word.
That's it for me.
Musings from a crazy lady... and if I show up on Todd's site.
Put it this way, I know where he'll be on July 3rd.