Even though today the clouds have petered out, I can tell another storm is brewing up on the distant wet horizon... So if you don't live on the east coast in the north, you might not be aware that God has been trying to wash us away with another great flood. It's been raining nonstop for nearly the past month.
"Why would He do such a thing?"
Because there are a lot of masturbators here. And as the saying goes,
And there is a weed-like presence of Chinese buffets, take-outs, and restaurants sprouting up all around my area, which explains why none of these dead kittens are being seen... They're being served.
So instead of fearing the flood, the Ritchie and I went behind the Riverstar Diner and made us some paper boats. I was hoping the wet and nappy little chipmunk that scurried by would hop in and take a ride, but he didn't. Which was good, because our boats never made it into the rapid flow of the river; they dwindled into a safe harbor of calm next to a tree, and bobbled around dumbly in the reeds.
I've been going crazy these past few days; I wasn't lying when I said I destroyed the scale for giving me lip. I have yet to clean it up from the floor (as well as vacuum, put away my clean laundry, clean the bathroom, clean my room, do the dishes, dust, clean the bunny cage, clean the bird cage, etc.) If the state of my house is the state of my head, then I am not going crazy, I'm already there. Ask the fellow who sat behind me at the diner yesterday, "Is Knot going crazy?"
"Yeah," he'll answer, "the bitch is off her rocker."
I was angry at his elbow. It was lounging on top of my diner booth, poking into my section indiscretely. It was right at eye level. How rude. He carried on his conversation over at his side with his partner, without any concern that his arm was jutting into my booth behind him.
Was it poking me in the head or something? No. Not at all. I was sitting slightly more left, while his elbow was not anywhere near me---just plainly annoyingly visible to my right.
So of COURSE I slid over to the right side of the booth so that it BECAME in my way. You see, I made an unrealistic realization and concluded that he was doubting my existence. He did not acknowledge my presence, either at all or enough, to think me worth moving his arm for. I wasn't important enough. No one was important enough as himself. And I considered this an insult. And what was worse, I knew that if I didn't take action, it'd get listed in the book of Things I Never Took Care Of, or How I Let People Walk All Over Me. I hate that book.
"Serenity now!"
I leaned backwards so that he noticed he should move his arm. Which he did--to a different section of the booth. His offensive elbow was still perched atop the seat, like a carcass-eating crow standing on top of the split-open flank of a dead deer.
I leaned my head back and bumped his elbow.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"That's rude," I said not necessarily to him, but just very loudly. I was hoping he'd hear it and conclude to himself, "I'm a rude dick and should be kicked in the jaw to death."
I thought I'd settled the matter when in a few minutes more, he actually bumped me in the back of the head trying to rest his elbow back up there.
"WOULD YOU KEEP YOUR ARM DOWN, PLEASE." I turned full around and said it loud, looking irritably right at him.
You should've seen the look on his face. I did. And I enjoyed it.
And that elbow never made another appearance on my diner booth again. Which is good for that guy. Because if it did, I would have accidentally tossed my cup of coffee over my shoulder and onto his elbow.
"You know, when I hang out with Meika, I always have to hold her back or calm her down, because she'll start with people. But she'll get herself upset and can't handle it," Ritchie said. "Not you. I know that if you start something, you finish it; I don't ever have to worry."
This was not a compliment really, this was him pointing out that yet again, my sociopathic tendencies made a cameo in my day.
"I think that's one of the reasons I started lifting weights more for my arms. I wanted to know that I could take care of things physically, if I ever had to," I said, and noticed I'd smoked my first cigarette in over a week. Damn.
Ritchie looked at me confusedly and said, "When haven't you been able to?"
