February 6, 2009

• and I am calling her crazy…

   

  

  On the way down the hall to the other side of the building I noticed the door on the left opening  “ut-oh” the one they refer to as “crazy” came out and you could see the static in her aura. Going through her changes and the loss of her dad over the holidays has sent her into a turmoil. She is so very in love with her physical being that she tends to loose sight of the fact she is now 50 and still wears very tight clothing for a very younger person. Be that as it may, though she fights with everyone in the entire company, she never fights with me, I won’t allow it. I have always stepped back. It would be like fighting with a tree. So, I don’t fight with trees. My dad is an alcoholic with a tongue sharper than a warrior’s sword, I learned the hard way, but I learned.

  She smiles and I smile. She says “Hi sweetie” and I say “hi” and continue hopefully to walk past her. This is not going to happen. She stops me by gently grabbing my arm when we pass one another. She starts,
  I have to tell you since we are both Scorpion’s so you’ll understand.” I hear this EVERY time she speaks to me that she and I are the same sign. Why does this person have to be the same sign? It is her opening in every conversation we have ever had, as limited as they are. I just look at her. She has on top of everything else a screeching voice that sounds like nails on a black board it grates on everyone and obviously herself since she is always ready to POP.

  My words and hers’ are straight typed – my thoughts and actions are in italic:

  “You know my dad died recently”.  I say,  ”I know, I am so sorry for your loss”. I step forward. She continues holding my arm…let me go please…I say nothing. “I bought myself a huge huge cross and wore it. It looked like Madonna’s cross you know I always tell you I look like Madonna.”  She laughs and lets go of my arm and affectionately brushes her own hip. ”I do honey, look at me.” You look like a slightly overweight person in her middle ages wearing a teenager’s clothing and the breath of youth has started to leave you. She says “well it brought me absolutely no good luck and I was furious and at the end of the day I ripped the son of a bitch off my neck and threw it on the floor.” Thoughts of the exorcist movie ”and I said fuck you, you son of a bitch. I had no good luck with you today”. and she laughs. She truly is nuts, no doubt about it. I don’t care what religion she is or what she believes in but obviously she is crazy. I say to me what would God want me to say. So I say slowly ”I remember you are brought up in Italy, so I assume your Christian correct?” She says “yes” I continue “I am not one to discuss religion but I was brought up to believe that Christian’s wear a cross in remembrance that Jesus died for them and not for good luck. Just as a remembrance with love.” She looks at me like I have a hole in my head.  “Honey, I didn’t even win a scratch off” I remark, Jesus didn’t even have shoes so I don’t think that is important to him.  I think what are you doing why are you talking to the tree and I continue like a moron,  “Good thing is God will forgive you for your temper tantrum because we are all his children and he loves you” and she remarks ”I’m not a child.” I smile and say “I know but we are all children of God”. and then she says “thank you”  for what, what are you thanking me for.  So I smile, take advantage of the moment and walk really quickly away. But it pissed me off that she is that crazy. I don’t want to be exposed to crazy. I have mom at home already and that is crazy enough. I was crazy talking to her I should have said that’s nice and kept walking what is wrong with me. Geesh I’m not mad at her I’m mad at me.

  Later that day I am doing the UPS delivery for the day and I see her sitting in front of the first floor coffee station on the floor with her legs bent and crossed in Indian fashion and rifling through the cookie bin with a vengance. Again I see that static infested aura she is wearing and it is brown and gray and all over the place moving. She decides on a package of oreos and then starts wrestling with the end of the package to open it.  This took several minutes since it was a top opening package.  she is able to rip open the end of the pack and shovels several cookies in her mouth. In mid chew she stops jumps up and runs to, of course, me at the front desk. “Look, look, look. It took me so long and it was so hard to open the package and there are so many cookies missing.” Of course there are you idiot this is a top opening package for freshness and people open the top and seal it. I look at her and that evil little girl from my childhood seeps in. I have two sisters siblings can be mean, I can be mean if I want, maybe I’m crazy, maybe we are all crazy. I look at her and say as I watch the crumbs in the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t eat any did you.?” She remarks, “I ate a few, just a few, why.”  I continue,  ”Well, there are definitely cookies missing, maybe it is tampered with.” She asks, “What is that, what does it mean, tampered?” She comes from Europe and has a certain challenge with the language, this I respect and it is the only thing I respect about her. It is hard to learn two languages. I look at her and say “Poisoned, maybe it is poisoned.” She has very large eyes to begin with and they turn into lunch plates larger than coffee saucers actual lunch plates and she sucks in air and chokes on a few crumbs. I say nothing. I wait. I figure, God saved my life from cancer, I owe him this because he is too good to mess with a crazies head.  Me, I am having no problem with it. The desk girl leans over and socks me in the arm. “What is wrong with you?” She is of course hysterical laughing but still helpful, she looks at the nut. “Don’t listen to her, they aren’t poisoned they open from the top, look.” and she demonstrates. Nutso says, “You don’t understand it took me really long to open the side and now they are missing.” “No,” the desk girl tries hopelessly again, they open from the top not the side.” Again, the crazy starts, ”NO they weren’t opened, I opened them.” I continue straight faced staring at her. The desk girl gives a final attempt while demonstrating “They NEVER open the sides anymore, these are top opened for freshness. This has been eaten out of before, I ate some before. They are not poisoned.”  She exclaims, are you ready for this one, your not going to believe it,  ”Oh, thank God”. Excuse me, what did you just say. She grabs a handful of cookies and leaves the cookie package on the desk and runs into the lobby. The desk girl looks at me and starts laughing, “I can’t believe you did that. Just tell me why.” I looked at her and was not going to attempt the explanation, I simply said, “I don’t know” and I go the other way. Maybe I am crazy but sometimes things make me feel better, even if it is just for a bit of time.

  Think I’ll have a cookie…hugs, Sassy

  • 2:11 pm
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