I awoke on the couch this morning. This is a post-breakup ritual of mine, sleeping on the couch. I kick myself out of my own bed.
Last night I was supposed to go see a reading and a play, but I stayed home instead. I ate dinner alone for the first time in a while. I opened a bottle of wine and drank a largish glass. Instead of the O. Henry short story award reading and the local play, I cleaned my living room. It was a mess and I realized it's been a mess for about two weeks. That's not very typical - I'm usually a clean up 2x/weekly kind of guy and it never takes long. Last night I spent hours sorting out the layers of mess in the living room - unfinished projects, papers I should discard or file, unread mail. (an amazingly small pile these days.) I took some Mardi Gras beads and hung them on the fence - an ongoing project I've been doing for weeks now.
I moved some furniture around. Instead of the editing I had planned on, I wrote something new. I stacked lots of stuff in my bed so I couldn't possibly sleep in it. I watered my plants and planted a few new ones, second-hand gifts intended for a freecycler who never showed. what's the 2006 definition of a friend? someone who'll take your freecycle stuff when the freecycler doesn't show, even if they don't really need it. In this case I needed the plants.
I watered my ancient peach tree. That's an act of faith really - the extension agent told me to chop the thing down. It's 10 years older than peach trees normally live already, too close to the house, and it hasn't produced peaches since the first year we lived there. I did the dishes. I should have scrubbed the kitchen floor but I didn't. Eventually I stretched out on the couch and slept.
This morning, I emerged and found my crazy neighbor Duke waiting for me in his driveway across the street. Duke is the crazy old man I'll probably be in 30 years - opinionated, garrulous, slightly racist (I would never explain that to him, it would be like overpainting a masterpiece), energetic. He's surrounded by old women who adore him for his constant smoking and off-color jokes. Among other things, he's retired military and a bicycle repairman, making him the third bicycle repairman in a row to live in the house across the street. Two of Duke's honeys were waiting with him - a silver haired woman who comes over daily and cooks for him, and another woman in a motorized wheelchair.
Duke started asking if I'd heard about the article in the paper. I don't get the paper. Even when I get the paper by accident, Duke swipes it and we both know it. He just wants to talk. I tell him that I haven't heard about the article in the paper. apparently a college professor is up in arms about college atheletes coming to the University and not getting a real education. Gasp. I told Duke there's always some professor up in arms about athletes, but I had to go to work.
Then Duke asked if the woman in the wheelchair could have some beads. Of course, I said. I walked over to the fence to grab a strand and she started shouting at me. At first I thought she was upset, but then I realized she had a heavy speech impediment and she was happy, grateful, for a strand of gold Mardi Gras beads I got for free. The silver-haired woman stood next to her and I saw her eyes light up when I took a second strand off the fence. I walked across the street and presented them both with beads, saying Happy Mardi Gras.
By now, my neighbor Mrs. Morrison was on the sidewalk, throwing cut-up bread to the birds. I went to the other fence and picked a strand of red dice beads for her. She told me they were beautiful and put them on right there and then.
Duke stretched his arms out as if to say what about me? Fine, ya crazy old man. I found a set of once-gold fleur-de-lis beads, now turned half white in the sun. He gave them immediately to the woman in the wheelchair. We all said our goodbyes and good mornings and I started the car.
As I pulled away, I saw that my impossibly old, too-close-to-the-house peach tree had blossomed, weeks ahead of schedule. Maybe it's global warming. Maybe it's just love.
