Saturday, May 02, 2009

Big Talker

I talk big. Especially when it comes to Those I Have Deemed To Be My Mortal Enemies.

I have lots of Mortal Enemies. It's a miracle I can even sleep at night what with all the ME's I have to worry about. I should probably be more alert. ME's are tricky. I know this because I've watched lots of movies and ME's are always sneaking around trying to make trouble. You can't be too careful when it comes to ME's.

The majority of my neighbors are ME's. There's the couple that live downstairs. They made the ME list when they moved in and installed that killer sound system. Because they are dastardly ME's, they are incapable of processing the fact that sound travels nor do they much care, I suppose. ME's are not known for being sensitive to others. ME's are, however, known to not move their cars when it's time for the snow plows to come through. They do this so that their upstairs neighbor will not get her space plowed out.

In fact, that seems to be a common theme with my ME's. The kid next door left his car in the same spot all winter. It was nothing but a big, white blob in the way of the plows that were trying to clear my space. Between that and the recent influx of guests next door and the drama they seem to suffer in the hallways and parking area, I'd say I have a definite new ME.

In fact, the only person in my building who is not an ME is The Guy Who Lives Downstairs And Who Is Really Quiet And Keeps To Himself. The fact that he probably meets most of the criteria for being a serial killer means nothing to me. I don't encourage serial killing, but I seem to find the self-contained nature of the occupation appealing in a neighbor.

I just keep my door locked is all...

I spend a great deal of time thinking about how best to thwart my ME's. I come up with complex plans that involve the purchasing of expensive equipment and highly technical listening devices. At the very least, I think it would be kind of fun to install a sub woofer in my floor for the listening pleasure of my neighbors. In the end, though...I'm all talk.

My ME's all think I am delightful, a real sweetheart. When I come home from work and find the kid from next door mourning the death of his car/former snowbank, I stop to comfort him. I make him laugh by telling him that his car is going to go live on a farm with all the other old cars. I reassure him that a newer and better car will soon win his heart. When the music-lovers from downstairs get stuck in a snowbank because the plows didn't do their job the night before, I stay and offer to help them get out. I never warm my car up on cold mornings because I leave early and the parking area is really close to their bedroom windows. All those grand plans for revenge? I never follow through. I just can't do it. When I go utterly insane from being surrounded by ME's, they'll probably all come visit me in the hospital. They'll bring flowers. It'll be nice.

I'm such a wimp. Hence, it is not really surprising that I can never tell my Very Mean Dentist exactly what I think of him. He is a very talented dentist and there isn't much he can't put back the way it use to was. The miracle he worked on my shattered tooth a couple of years ago is the stuff of legend. But he is not known for his kindly manner. He has opinions and isn't afraid to share them. He was doing just that at the reception desk when I arrived yesterday for my appointment. Loudly. At great length. You could literally feel the whole room shifting hard to The Extreme Right.

I opted to not comment. I sat quietly and knit. But in my head, I was devising an extensive rebuttal. And maybe thinking about assembling a rag-tag team comprised of ex-military types with unique talents who might help me exact some sort of very Liberal Thinking Revenge. We could get a van. That would be cool. When we were done with the dentist, we could become Problem-Solvers For Hire and wear black jumpsuits.

With handknit socks.

It's a nice fantasy, but one that will never come to fruition as much as I like a good jumpsuit. Like my ME/neighbors, he will carry on thinking that I am a lovely woman who has naught in her head but images of frolicking puppies and helpful intentions. I don't even own a jumpsuit.

I dunno. Maybe there's still time. It's not like I don't have another opportunity coming up. I'm due back next month for a filling. Maybe once the drill comes out, I'll be a feel a bit more inspired...



trek said...

Number Guy actually works with a whole company full of former commando types. They low-crawl everywhere they go in the office (well, except when they are scaling the filing cabinets). He tells me he experiences a nearly overwheling urge to shout HOO-AH upon entering the conference room for team meetings.

I'm sure he could hook you up.

Anonymous said...

When I was wheeled into the operating room for the ankle surgery last fall, the entire crew was discussing politics. And guess what? They were all Republicans. One of the scrub nurses even went on at great length about how much she liked Sarah Palin. I was ready to leap off the table and demand some blue doctors instead of this numskull red crew, but I wisely refrained. They may be political idiots, but that in no way screwed up their medical stuff.

Kath said...

I look good in black. And I have plenty of hand-knit socks. I'm just sayin'...

Mel said...

I knew even before you said it which way the dentist's opinions were leaning. He's a dentist.

Personally, I think I'd be looking for a place to live where there aren't so many ME's. 'Cause at the end of the day, they just don't really sound like the kind of folks who will visit you in the hospital. Or knock on your door if you haven't been seen for a few days.

=Tamar said...

The socks are pretty. I'm very fond of blue.

Karen said...

The socks are beautiful!
About your quiet "serial killer" neighbor maybe he's in the witness protection program. It's a little more comforting to think that he's hiding because someone wants to kill him as opposed to him doing the killing.
There is something about dentists. They all scare me.