I got my hair cut this morning. While she was cutting, my stylist told me in excrutiating detail of the cicadas. The invasion of the 17-year cicadas is upon us, and apparently in full force in her yard. She talked of seeing greenery move, how she thought it was a baby possom, how the cicadas crawled up her legs, how she gently moved them to trees. I squirmed in my chair, but that did not stop her. I put my hands over my ears and chanted: “I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” but she continued. I know it’s irrational, but I’m terrified of them. I’m terrified of all bugs. I’m not seeking them out to destroy them, but I feel avoiding them is absolutely within my rights.
I was reminded of my first visit to a hairdresser. I don’t remember how old I was. I do remember that, up until that point, my mother had washed my hair in the kitchen sink as I screamed and cried. When she dropped me off at the stylist’s, she told them I’d be horrible. When she picked me up, the hairdresser said I had been fine. She asked me about it, and I explained that the hairdresser used the pads of her fingers to wash my scalp. She did NOT claw at my scalp with her long fingernails. It made it a much more pleasurable experience.
I also got my brows waxed. Two normal-sized eyebrows now. No bushy unibrow.
Afterward, I went to the vet clinic to pick up some medication. Being their most high-maintenance client, I also asked for copies of the last labwork I’d had done, and made an appointment for another cat. Just the other week, the vet I see regularly, Dr. B. was telling me of another client. He said: “She’s like you… well, she’s not like YOU, no one is like YOU… but she likes to do her research.” We laughed. I know they must roll their eyes when it’s me on the phone, AGAIN. I ask for copies of everything. My vet researches information on the VIN and faxes it to me. I tell him what I found on the internet, and what the vets I e-mailed said. I’m a huge pain. I figure there are signs up in every vet office in the city stating “Warning: This person may appear to be a lucrative client, but she is NOT worth it!”
I also got groceries. I’m that annoying customer in line ahead of you, with a cart piled high with items. I can feel the customers behind me cursing me silently. I have no idea why I always have so much stuff. I NEED 6 to 8 large vanilla-flavored non-dairy creamers, and lots and lots of microwavable vegetarian entrees. LOTS of paper towels – I have several cats, remember? Well, and I have coupons – LOTS of coupons, and all the items the coupons were for. Heck, I even got some pre-cut pre-washed convenience veggies – and dip.
I actually find the grocery store interesting. Not the part where you’re wandering up and down aisles, searching for things listening to childen whine and parents nag… but the part where you’re standing in line to check out. What does the older woman ahead of me have? Squash, fruit, salmon, chicken… healthy eater. I imagine she lives alone and eats very healthy, and has a cat. She wasn’t buying any cat food or cat litter, but she just looks nice, I think she should have a cat. The man behind me had beer, a pineapple, guava nectar… he’s having a party… a pool party. The man behind him had even more paper towels than I did. His cart was stacked high with paper products. I imagine he owns his own small business.
I’m home and the groceries are unpacked. Some of the veggies are eaten. I plan on spending the day at the computer, with cats. Bliss!
Life of the Lintee Bean 