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Procrastination Junction/Nasty Woman

I think it is pretty well established that I procrastinate my way through life. Some would even call me a Master at it. (See any of my past posts.) My friends Viking and Maya came to NYC last week. Viking actually stayed with me for part of the time. Most normal people would start preparing for guests at least the night before. Not me. Why, when you can run around like a crazed chicken? That sounds more like me.

Viking and Maya were due to arrive at my house last Tuesday afternoon. That morning, I woke up and realized my apartment smelled a little too much like me. Not bad, just not fresh. The dishes hadn’t been done fully for the last two days and dusting was two weeks overdue. Who am I kidding, I don’t dust. Dusting is futile in New York City. The minute you open the window, the black dust of hell comes and grips onto everything you own. Never the less, I had guests coming, so I had to pretend to be more domesticated than I am.

Unfortunately, Tuesday is also the day I wash my hair. Another thing, when I said I got up in the morning, morning is relative when you work for yourself. I get up between 11am and 12pm. That means I basically had two hours to wash my hair and clean my entire apartment. Procrastination death spiral!!!

In these dark times, you have to make choices for the greater good. I got into the shower, because greeting your friends smelling is never an option. I didn’t wash my hair, because that would take 45 minutes. I managed to get in and out of the shower in 20. I put on the jeans I had been wearing for the last four days and attacked the floors in the kitchen. I immediately realized sweeping wasn’t going to cut it. There were stains on the floor, that under low light blended into the woodwork, but under fluorescent light they became scarlet letters shining for everyone to see. Now I had to mop. I mopped that floor as quickly and vigorously as I could.

When the kitchen mopping was done, I took a towel with some furniture polish and ran around the living room dusting as many surfaces as I could. If anything was not directly under a light source, I didn’t take as much care. Instead of vacuuming, I picked up all the visible pieces of paper and dust bunnies off the rug. Then I mopped around the dining room table and between the chairs. Any visible piece of hardwood, I mopped. This was no time for moving furniture. I headed back to the kitchen and realized that my white cabinets, refrigerator and oven were stained, so I cleaned those very quickly. I cleaned the front half of the stove and put clean pots on the back burners. No one is gonna lift up pots.
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The Bathroom!!!! There is no real way to skimp on cleaning a bathroom. You just have to do it. But, for times sake, I closed the shower curtain and decided to clean the tub before anyone needed a shower that night. Classic procrastination punt. I finished the bathroom with fifteen minutes to spare.

Unfortunately, I forgot the bedroom. I live with clothes on the floor. Laundry day is the cleanest day of the week in my bedroom. It’s the one day of the week, when I fold my clothes and put them away. As the week progresses, my clothes end up on the floor in piles. It is my way of keeping track of what I have already worn. Well, it was close to laundry day and my dresses, pants and shirts were all over the floor. I pile up all the wash and wears into a big ball and then all the dry cleaning into another ball and stuff them in the closet. I will deal with it later. Punt!

The front bell rang and another episode of procrastination junction is complete.

P.S. Go F*cking Vote! That is one thing this Procrastination Master/Nasty Woman doesn’t fool with and neither should you! There is more at stake than just the Presidency. Remember Congress hasn’t exactly been doing their job.

 

Bonnet and Frank’s

I haven’t been the most gracious about my new neighborhood. Most of my surliness comes from being overworked and feeling out of place. My opinion has drastically changed since I left my job and started roaming around during the middle of the day. I discovered that’s when the neighborhood comes alive.

Last week at Frank’s grocery store, I got caught in some drama. As I walked through the sliding door, I saw all the signs of a hot mess. There was an ancient woman in a woolen bonnet (average temp last week was 95 degrees) swinging a metal medical cane at the pastries on the top shelf. Pastries were raining down on the shelves behind. Boom, Scrape, Boom, Boom!

The entrance to Frank’s is really tight, so the cane was coming perilously close to my head every time Bonnet swung back. Her shopping cart was blocking the path, so no one else’s cart could pass through. I froze, because I knew I couldn’t help or get past her. I was also completely fascinated. I just stood there, with my mouth open, as Bonnet destroyed the display. I tried to catch the eye of the cashiers on the other side, but they were too busy. After a minute or so of pastry carnage, two women came in the store. One of them realized the damage Bonnet was doing and offered her help.

Good Citizen: Let me help you. What are you looking for?

Bonnet: I want to see all of them. (She continued to whacking her cane at the shelf.)

Good Citizen: But what kind do you want?

Bonnet: I want to see all of them. (Screaming) I want you to bring every piece down and show it to me.

If you are wondering, I am still standing there with my mouth open. I hear the sliding door open behind me. A woman was standing just outside the door with a 6 month old on her hip. I looked back at her and nodded. 

Me: Do you want to get by?

Baby Lady: (shrugs) I need a cart. There is nowhere to go.

Me: I’ll move over there.

I pointed to the area behind Bonnet’s cart.

Baby Lady:We’re ok.

Me: Well at least you will be able to get in the air conditioning. (It was a very humid day.)

I squeezed past Bonnet’s cart while she was busy with Good Citizen. The Lady and her baby took my spot.

Good Citizen: How about one of these?

(The good citizen brings down three)

Bonnet: No, no, no!

(The good citizen puts back the first three and brings three more down.)

Good Citizen: Ok, what about these?

Bonnet: No!!!!! (Screaming and banging her cane on the ground.) I want to see the ones in the back.

Good Citizen:Give me a break lady!

Bonnet: I want to see all of them!!!!!!!! (Still banging her cane on the ground.)

Good Citizen: You are a miserable, nasty lady. I am done. I’m DONE!

Good Citizen stormed past me and the two staff members who had just arrived to help.  One of them was picking up the rubble from “Tornado Bonnet” and the other went around to help her get the right pastry. The baby lady had enough and stuck her baby in a cart. She tried to push it through the tiny opening between Bonnet’s cart and the fruit, but she couldn’t.

Staff Member: Ma’am, I am just going to roll your cart away for a minute.

Bonnet: You will not. I want it there. Leave it there!!! (Banging her cane on the ground again.)

Staff Member: Well we can just roll it right back.

Bonnet: Leave it! I want it right there.

While the staff member had Bonnet’s attention, I took the opportunity to move her cart back so Baby Lady could get through. Bonnet sensed her cart move just as Baby Lady was pulling through the newly freed space.

Bonnet: Don’t move my cart! I want it right there!!!

Me: Lady, I have been waiting here for fifteen minutes. I am going to go get a cart and push it through.

The second employee took Bonnet’s cart from me and kept it to the side, so I could get a cart. I passed Bonnet and moved quickly down the aisle, happy to get a little space between us. I ran into Good Citizen in the middle of the produce aisle. She turned around holding her face. I could tell she was exhausted from her encounter with Bonnet.

Good Citizen: That was awful.

Me: Yes, it was.

Good Citizen: She was so nasty.

Me: She is still yelling over there. 

Good Citizen was standing directly in front of the limes. The limes were on the top shelf, out of my reach and the main reason I came to the store. I didn’t want to ask for help. I don’t really like to ask for help and Good Citizen had been through a lot. So, I stood there looking in the direction of the limes (like a weirdo) and then she asked.

Good Citizen: Do you need something.

Me: Yes, um could you grab two limes for me?

Good Citizen: Sure, how do you want them? Sort of hard but not too hard?

Me: Yes, that’s perfect.

She picked out two limes and then we walked down the aisle together. We got to the meat section and she turned to me.

Good Citizen: I used to see her in Gideon’s (The Kosher Bakery across the street).

Me: Oh…

Good Citizen: You know Gideon’s closed.

Me: Right

Good Citizen: That’s where she got her pastries.

Me: And she could see of all of them and point to which one she wanted.

Good Citizen: Yes

Suddenly, I started to feel bad for Bonnet. Her neighborhood is changing and she is too old to adjust. I am going to guess Bonnet was never the most reasonable individual, but the pastries are just a symbol of her frustration. It must be awful to feel like your world is gone and you are too tired to learn the new. You slowly lose your independence.  All you want is the what you want, nothing extravagant, just the ability to choose. Gentrification is not just about money and race. It’s also about age.