M.I.A.

. . . it's what's for dinner.

ess-aye-tee-you-are dee-aye-why...NIGHT.
I'm at home- catching up on being at home which means cleaning, changing sheets, letting the cats know that I still live here. I'm proud of the fact that I went to Home Depot today, bought weather stripping, and installed it. I'm so-o handy!

So it's a little after midnight, and I understand that this place is more than a little weird- I have to chronicle it more because it's just too funny-- like tonight's discovery.
I started cleaning up stairs- finished- came downstairs and made dinner (yes, when you are in your 20's popcorn'n'beer is a meal- AND IT'S GOOD!) I'm opening some windows, enjoying the quite and cool that the night has brought in. I can hear the apartment manager (we'll call her Polly) outside talking to someone and this is not unusual at any hour around here. I finish sweeping the stairs and before I vacuum I get my keys to go get my mail (which also gets neglected).

Background on Polly in brief: She is suspected by some of neighbors (not suspected by me- fucking confirmed on...) a crackhead. Now, we love crackheads- they get shit done when they are all sorts of hopped-up. YEAH! I have come home at the very early hour of 3:00 am only to find Polly rearranging the courtyard with a very determined movement and a slight bulge of one eye that is greater than the other. Additionally she seems to move as if guided by a force other than her own body- she'll lead with torso and her bobble-like head hangs on for the ride as she single-handedly picks up a bench to carry it. Like I said, more power to ya- your are getting shit done!
I open my front door and I see Polly (AND MOST CERTAINLY SMELL) her spray painting. Now, I enjoy being home on a Saturday night but I'm not busting out new projects that call for Krylon. The interesting thing is: there she is, spray painting who-knows-what (most likely a paper bag to put over her face but hey, we don't judge).

She is spray painting and smoking. Yes, Krylon black in one hand, Hand-rolled fire hazard hanging from determined lips. The bulging eye is concentrating on what's being made anew, the other eye squinting from the accosting smoke'n'spray.

Knowing that she's not going say anything to me (most likely because she is very focused) I say, "Hey, Polly. How's it goin'?" Looking up rather slowly, like she was reading a good book. She says, "oh, hey" and then realizing it was me seemed to get excited with the jolt of one shoulder, "oh- HEY, you should check out this awesome...." She lost me after that because the words seem to come out as quickly as the darkening paint. Smiling and nodding I get my mail and then turn around and cross my arms over my body and try to ration my breaths.
In slowly moving my way back to my own apartment, I said, "yeah, that's great. Well- be careful that spray paint's pretty flammable so watch your ash."

She then takes the cigarette out of her mouth and looks at it as if she had no idea it was there and I am clearly off her radar now.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 09, 2005 at 12:32 AM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.