At Least The Lesbian Moved Out
Life has been quite a rollercoaster lately.
Some social ups and downs, writing doldrums, work pressures and at times the So Cal heat have taken their toll on me. But in all this, I do have a new mantra:
"At least the lesbian downstairs moved out."
A year and a half ago my car was dented. If it weren't for good old Selma Jenkins, the middle school crossing guard I would have never gotten the facts.
Selma came over to ask if I had noticed my fender dent and I had not. After showing me the damage, she explained that a black truck tried to park beside me, but hit my car. She said a latino man got out, surveyed what he'd done, then reparked his truck around front without leaving a note.
"That's no man," I said.
So the downstairs lesbian played dumb until I told her I had a witness who told me the whole thing. She paid for the damage after dragging her heels for months. Since then, she and I had been shooting glares at each other. And whenever there have been problems in my apartment building, I naturally attributed them to her (which was probably correct).
And so, with life's hectic pace lately, at least the lesbian downstairs moved out. I applaud the other lesbian downstairs for her wise choice.
Some social ups and downs, writing doldrums, work pressures and at times the So Cal heat have taken their toll on me. But in all this, I do have a new mantra:
"At least the lesbian downstairs moved out."
A year and a half ago my car was dented. If it weren't for good old Selma Jenkins, the middle school crossing guard I would have never gotten the facts.
Selma came over to ask if I had noticed my fender dent and I had not. After showing me the damage, she explained that a black truck tried to park beside me, but hit my car. She said a latino man got out, surveyed what he'd done, then reparked his truck around front without leaving a note.
"That's no man," I said.
So the downstairs lesbian played dumb until I told her I had a witness who told me the whole thing. She paid for the damage after dragging her heels for months. Since then, she and I had been shooting glares at each other. And whenever there have been problems in my apartment building, I naturally attributed them to her (which was probably correct).
And so, with life's hectic pace lately, at least the lesbian downstairs moved out. I applaud the other lesbian downstairs for her wise choice.
posted by "Harold" at 1:12 PM
1 Comments:
You know, that doesn't sound like a bad mantra after all. I'm going to have to remember that... although last I knew there weren't any lesbians living in my garage. *shrugs*
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