There’s a stranger in my house. She’s the same height as me, roughly the same hair color, and she seems to have a good report with the Hunter and the Gatherer, but her head seems thick, her responses are delayed, and aromatic smells seem to be of little interest to her. The most peculiar feature is her singular red eye. You don’t notice it at first; probably because of the glasses and squinting in bright sunlight.
She made cinnamon rolls, like mine, she helped sweep the fallen leaves, like I do, and she even ignored the same phone calls that I do. The problem is, she’s foggy headed, makes crude noises when she attempts breathing from her nose, and has this ocd hand washing thing. She’s obviously trying to push though and be a team player when she would clearly be more comfortable on a sofa with a cup of hot tea and a trashy novel.
Instead of giving into her basest desires, she convinced herself she wasn’t sick or rundown, and insisted on going downtown to watch the crew races. Apparently she had been looking forward to it for weeks, sculling shells, synchronized movement, coded blades.
Today, she has done little save unloading the dishwasher, and a couple of loads of laundry. She isn’t a bad guest, but she isn’t much on conversation and she has spent much of the day sleeping. I’m ready for her to move on, she cramping my style, reducing my productivity and she snores. Loud.
Oh man, she needs to get the fuck out.
Sometimes, some guests just have to leave in their own time. Sucks don’t it? But you know, maybe you should force her onto the couch and demand that she down a few mugs of tea. And I’m sure you could stack some trashy novels in front of her and it just might tempt her. After all, she is in your house. =)
flutter, I bitch slapped her, but she is stubborn.
*****
Maggie, she does have three books in progress. Decadent.