I haven’t traversed any mazes lately with a Girl Named Volcanic Repression, but I did spend all day Saturday painting the ceiling of a mildewy basement. And felt completely ill for it, since heat rises and it was soupy heat and anyway. I might have tumors now, or at least a substantial lung disease brewing. It was for church and it’s fine, but let’s just say I’m not in any hurry to go back until the ceiling is done, at least. (It’s a giant, giant room.) I totally (totes) hope you go back to the maze so you can experience it by yourself and also complete the women’s maze because hello – awesome. It sounded pretty epic in spite of the subsequent friend-drama.
A new phone has been procured, secured, and I have named it Persephone. And you totally (totes) would have been proud of me when I sicced my upstate NY accented tirade on the AppleCare rep re: his ridiculous plan to have me send back a lemony device and wait 10 days for a replacement. My speech was long and loud enough to pass whatever escalation test was required by the cellphone carrier so that they intervened and were like, yes, we’ll swap it out for you. Sweet. I feel like I maintained a perfect balance of carefully restrained venom and persecuted customer-ness.
Neighborly shenanigans, you ask? So the nosy one to the right of us, the one who feels sorry for herself as a regular theme of conversation, the one with a vindictive streak who chucked dog poo in our flower beds last year instead of discussing the issue first? That one. Her husband went to the hospital last week after a fall (not the first fall), and I let the dog out while they were gone, and now she’s back and her husband has been transferred to a nursing home. Which was a long time coming, we all know that. And now she’s has this huge life transition in her lap, like what to do with herself, how to create a new life, how to be alone. I get that. I really do. I listen to these words empathetically. At the same time, the invitation to join a water aerobics class together had to be politely declined.
This is the show I went to Friday night. And it was pretty rad! I mean I could have done without the Santa song and why did we go back to the Flagmaker in the 1700s? I’m not sure. But otherwise. I got it, and it was inspiring. It’s a tiny theater brimming over with talent and heart and I love it. Totally (totes) want to go back.
And currently, I’m sitting in awe next to this super-tall bookcase crafted by J.Lo and my dad that is now a cornerstone of our living room. I have to fill it this week, and also make a giant stack of books-to-be-sold-and/or-donated. Because I just don’t want to hold on to them all. I know. Who is speaking here. But it’s totally (totes) me, Penelope.
love to you on the island -