I’ve been given an opportunity to make some money. My dad’s paying me quite generously to get rid of the disaster in the garage: wet boxes, styrofoam, and household junk. I’ve been doing manual labor for several days now, and I’m quite determined. I also called and requested a bigger recycling bin, but a lot of this stuff is going to have to be driven somehow to a recycling center, I’d reckon. My dad’s friend, Mr. Sullivan, might take it in his pickup truck. My dad doesn’t want me to get our cars’ interiors dirty.
I don’t actually have possession of my car. My brother was involved in a car wreck over the weekend, so I loaned him BlackBird. I think he’s taking slight advantage of me because he could call his insurance provider and request a rental, but instead of dealing with that, he’s just absconded with BlackBird. Hmmph.
I was relieved that he wasn’t injured, and nor was the other driver. But their cars were totalled. There’s no way his car’s coming back from that. (He posted photos on social media.) That car’s dead.
This would be perfect timing if I were in Prague, because I’ll need someone to occasionally drive my car while I’m gone. But it’s not like I’m going to complain to my brother about the timing of his near-death experience! 😀
My mother’s in her house in Maine now, and it’s for the best that I didn’t go along because it would be too much for me to cope with. But she and her boyfriend have gotten back together! It’s amazing.
I’m very excited about going to Prague, and I’m trying to tamp it down a bit so I don’t have too high expectations. But I’ve been there twice before and would’ve gone a year ago but for the coronavirus. I went in Nov/Dec 2019 and Oct/Nov 2018.
This is funny. When last I went and Sonya picked me up from the airport, we were taking the tram (is that the word?) to her apartment, and I kept going on and on about how huge the pigeons were. And I’m not making this up–they were huge. And Sonya kept saying, “No, they’re normal sized pigeons!” And I was like, “Look at that bird! He’s bigger than Mr. Kitty!” And it became the world’s most ridiculous argument. She insisted the pigeons were normal sized. I thought she’d lost her mind. I was braindead, of course, from traveling. But those were really huge pigeons.
Here’s a photo from The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock. Wasn’t there a scene where an idiotic character said, “I’ll go check the attic,”? Well, okay, first of all, if you’re being pursued by carnivorous birds, maybe avoid the attic. Second of all, if you do check the attic because no one can talk any sense into you, don’t look inside, notice birds lurking everywhere and eyeing you like you’re fresh meat, and then close yourself into said attic with said birds. [Facepalm.] Any chance I’m remembering the movie wrong? I sure hope so.
Speaking of classic campy movies, Sonya and I are going to watch The Watcher in the Woods. She’s never seen it, and I want to discuss its masterful plotting with her. (We’re both writers.) She’s going to help me plot a novel that I might write for NaNoWriMo.
(If you don’t know, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month and is held in November. The goal is to write 50,000 words toward a novel that month.)
The thing I like about The Watcher in the Woods (no spoilers) is that you find out a little bit more, and a little bit more, and a little bit more, and one character has such-and-such motives or memories, and another character has a different perspective due to such-and-such happening, and although that sounds vague (hey, I promised no spoilers), it’s the perfect plot in my eyes. I love-love-love creating novels where you get this whole unraveling of a mystery going on like that. I watched The Watcher in the Woods tirelessly as a kid (it’s kid-friendly horror, which is great because that’s the only sort of horror I can handle–I sure can’t handle The Birds), and it influenced me as a writer–I’m sure of it.
Dear Amy: Recently a very good friend of over 20 years took an overnight road trip with me.
We have been through everything together – his breakups, the death of my husband, travels, you name it.
After this last trip, he refused to return my calls or texts.
Finally, he texted me and said, “I am having a hard time getting over this last trip. I wanted to call you, but I knew I would be too emotional to discuss it. I’m sure you don’t remember what you did, but I can’t forget.”
Amy, I was dumbfounded! I immediately texted him, apologizing for whatever it was, asking him to please let me know what I did to upset him.
I did this numerous times with no response, until he texted back: “Soon, I’ll let you know.”
I racked my brain, and even called the hotel we stayed at to ask if there were any complaints about our stay.
At this point I want to text him and say, “You are a lucky, lucky man to have so many close friends that you can afford to toss one away with no explanation.” What do I do?
– Scratching My Head in CA
Dear Scratching: Your pal texted: “I’m sure you don’t remember what you did…”
So, he knows you don’t remember what you did to offend him, but he also won’t fill you in.
His behavior has effectively made you the wounded party, now, and I agree with your current sentiment toward him.
I do wish you two would be brave enough to at least hash this out verbally, however, versus trading cryptic texts. (c) Ask Amy
Wow, I love a good mystery! Hmm…. were they sharing a hotel room? If so, did the room have two beds or one? Were alcohol, Ambien, or any other substances involved? (You all have no idea how goofy I get when I’m high on Ambien. I had to quit taking it, but too bad, you know?) Has the letter writer checked her sent messages folder from that time period? Were there possible romantic feelings on either or both ends? Did he proposition her right as she was falling asleep, and she naturally has no memory of it? Does she have a history of somnambulism or indecent exposure? Or what about pseudobulbar affect, does she have that? Did she tell him he was stinky? Was flatulence involved? Did her emotional support falcon eat his emotional support hamster? Did they engage in a threesome that the letter writer is conveniently not mentioning, viewing it as irrelevant to his current behavior? Did she dip her chocolate bar into his peanut butter? (How old am I that I remember that commercial? “Hey, you dipped your chocolate bar into my peanut butter!”)
At any rate, this man has created enough intrigue, and it’s time for him to reveal the letter writer’s crime or let it go. I agree that he has no right to have it both ways. I’m surprised that this friendship has lasted twenty years! This guy’s being a passive-aggressive twat.
It reads as if he just made it all up. Like, nothing untoward happened, but he wants to create drama from nothing. You have to wonder. But if it were me, I’d be dying of curiosity. Huh.