So, this was fun.

[in_the_blue]

It's a long story because it has to start at the beginning.

We're having our house remodeled, and the guys were here all day. They've been here every day for a couple weeks, actually. I'm a massage therapist and my schedule varies every day, but today I was supposed to have my hair cut only the appointment got cancelled. So I did what anyone would do: plugged in the headphones and watched the 4th DVD of Samurai Champloo. Thankfully, for the whole time, nobody rang the doorbell or knocked on the door or did any of that stuff, and I finally got to watch this DVD that's been staring at me since July, and I haven't had time to watch it because I can't when Hannah's around -- it's too adult -- and late at night is too late for Champloo.

After that, I decided to make myself some lunch and I was just finishing toasting a bagel and putting on ingredients (jarlsberg cheese and tofurkey slices, for those who want to know) when the doorbell rang. It was the general contractor, who's a really nice guy but man can he talk, wanting to use the phone. I don't know about you guys, but I really don't like having strangers watch me while I do food prep, but I finished up and put together my lunch because what the hell, it's my house, and sat down to eat and put the headphones back on because I was watching the Wendee Lee interview on the first Bebop remix DVD. But the GC's phone call was done and he felt the need to explain at great length what was going on, which is ordering more rebar, which I don't particularly care about.

So finally he was done, and he went back outside. I put the headphones back on and went back to Wendee Lee and not five minutes later the doorbell rang again; it was another one of the guys wanting to use the bathroom. I told him he didn't have to ring the bell; he could just come in any time he needed to do that. Because really, when you get right down to it: isn't that a bit too much information? Just take a shit, Gordon, and please don't leave the door closed when you're done because then the cats can't get into the litterbox which is in the bathroom, okay?

So I decided to leave the house because the worst thing of all isn't the lack of privacy. It's not knowing when lack of privacy is going to strike, so it's not like I can get very involved in anything while those guys are here. Sit down to write, doorbell rings. Try to rearrange my RP board, the doorbell rings. You get the picture. And besides, I promised villainny a care package and wanted to go get her supplies today, so a trip to the mall (because in suburbia that's where we go for such things) was definitely in order.

(Drive, drive, drive. Oh, my car needs brakes, must remember to call and arrange that appointment. Drive, drive, drive, stop by Starbucks, drive. It's a thing.)

Our mall is under construction. The parking lots are all torn up. But I found myself a spot and just as I was finishing listening to whatever song it was when a middle-aged woman knocked on my car window. I figured she was going to be asking for directions or whatever, but when I rolled down the window she launched into this oh! so smooth story about how she was down in Portland from Tacoma and her son, bless his soul, was having a really hard time and was in rehab. Now, she didn't want to take him to rehab up in Tacoma because it was too close to home, and he just tended to skip out on it, surrounded by all the same people who got him into trouble in the first place. And he was in a very bad way, it was breaking her heart. And it was embarrassing to say, but when she was about a block away from the rehab place he bolted, jumped right out of the car and took her wallet, which was just lying out in the open, and she only had about $1.50 left to her name and couldn't make it back to Tacoma, and she hated to ask for help, but...

Well, I didn't have any cash, having just spent my last $3 on my iced-tea lemonade at Starbucks, but I did ask her where the rehab place was (over on MLK and for those of you who know Portland, that's the other side of town, nowhere near where we were, not by a long shot). So I asked her how she got to Tigard, to the parking lot of Washington Square Mall, and she said "we drove down from Tacoma." Mm-hmm. At that point I smiled politely and suggested that perhaps mall security could help her out of her predicament. She just kind of glared at me, said "uh-huh," and moved off to try it on someone else who'd just pulled in... to a handicap parking space.

I really wanted to ask her how stupid I looked, to tell her that I'm a native New Yorker and she'd better not try that shit with me, or to suggest that we go into the mall together because I could show her the way to security, or to laugh at her smooth and practiced story. But... so far as I could tell, we were the only two people there in the parking lot at that moment, and who the hell knows. Maybe he took the virtual wallet, but left the virtual gun. So, I just said the thing about how she could get help from security and went my merry way.

There were no mall security people around when I went inside, or I would have mentioned it to them, and by the time I came back out she was nowhere to be seen. But I thought about it a bit more after that, wondering how many people had succumbed. If she'd had the balls to tap on my window and say "can you give me a couple bucks?" I might have been so inclined.

Just don't try to bullshit me. OK? I'm not stupid.

Comments

[awelkin.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry.

I remember the invasion of privacy when we had our house painted. It still stings, and that was on the outside of the abode.

And that woman. *shakes head* Exploitation on so many levels.

I've been watching lately, and I know life's been tough. I've been thinking about you, and hoping.

Catherine

[in-the-blue.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I appreciate it.

[jaylake.livejournal.com]

Man, the life you lead.

:: admires from a safe distance ::

[in-the-blue.livejournal.com]

Mostly, my life is suburban and consumed with parenting. I drive 2 hours a day ferrying my child back and forth to school. In between those two primary tasks, I work, write, design and redesign roleplay boards, waste time, run errands, clean up after the cats, try to learn something new every day, read if there's time, and the inevitable "try to figure out how to be a better person and live with more grace" thing.

I'm not scary and I'm not brilliant and most days I don't feel particularly witty in person. However, I'm very proud to share the mantle of School Rebel Mom with mme_publisher. I'm no good at housework but I'm a damn fine massage therapist. I love to procrastinate, but I tend to inspire people.

Walking Oxymorons 'R' Us.

How did your book signing go?

[jaylake.livejournal.com]

Better Oxymorons 'R' Us than Morons 'R' Us. There's plenty of that in the world, my friend.

Book signing was fine. I think we sold two books the entire time, but mme_publisher and me and the other two victims had a great old time chatting. Given I was giant stressball when I got there, it was nice to mellow a while.

[chrysantza.livejournal.com]

I think there was actually a movie made about remodeling and the nightmares it spawns.

How are the kitties taking to the whole process of having Their Domain torn up?

As for that woman, well, there's a reason I don't give money to strangers with sob stories. It's too bad as someone might really need the money, but too many con artists have spoiled the barrel so to speak.

[in-the-blue.livejournal.com]

Pacific Heights. I saw it a long time ago.

We actually built this house, and have already remodeled once. I don't mind the actual remodeling stuff. It's just new again and I've been having to deal with it all solo, and that's where it gets hard. I mean, I don't care if the rebar takes an extra day to get here, you know?

As far as the sob story went, I would think that the woman allegedly visiting from Tacoma would have called the cops to help her find her wayward son instead of driving 15 miles to the other side of town and asking strangers in the parking lot for money. There are homeless people in downtown Portland who I always give money to when I see them, because they don't ask for it. They're not the ones standing on the side of the road at the highway on-ramp holding signs that say "God Bless, I'm Homeless" and making pathetic faces at every car that's going by. Those guys are a racket. They get dropped off and picked up every day. It's a scam.

So like I said, if she'd just said "Can you spare a couple bucks?" I might have actually spared a couple bucks. But the story was just bad and she wasn't even a gracious loser.

Heh.

The kitties: Jack still goes outside, Hector sleeps during the construction as does Jasmine, and Fudge and Tribble hide in the closet upstairs. Business as usual.

Hmmm...

[luu-alita.livejournal.com]

I can't really understand the remoderlers thing (though it does sound annoying) cause most of the time my family does all the remodleling themselves.

Though with that old lady, geeze, how stupid would you have to be? Usually the more people tell you (and the smoother they do it) the more they're lying, 'specially if they don't need to give information at all.

Re: Hmmm...

[in-the-blue.livejournal.com]

Especially when the moment the words "security" and "help" leave your mouth, they give you the visual equivalent of a flip-off with their eyes and go try the story out on someone else.

I like to think maybe she left because I did mention security. I hope so.

[lvblheron.livejournal.com]

Wow! I *so* would not have been that smart with the beggar-lady. I would have been like, "here's my last 5 bucks. Good luck."

And gotten totally shafted. I need to be smarter about this kind of thing.

[in-the-blue.livejournal.com]

I am a native New Yorker. Maybe we're born either savvier or more suspicious.