i can't believe i ever called her my friend. that bitch. she showed up when i was 12 and terrified me. i didn't know who or what she was but there she was, in front of me, a part of me and i have never liked her. my sister told me who she was and how long she'd be staying and then finally gave me her copy of "growing up and liking it" which she had received when she was a girl scout. i never received my own copy, having never made it past one season of brownies.
i have had it with you, old maid. we have spent approximately 2,736 days together these past 38 years and i haven't enjoyed one of them. not one!
remember the time you showed up unexpectedly when i was just starting to teach a class on leadership in st cloud? it was my birthday and i drove through the thickest scariest fog to get there and you followed me. i wasn't ready for you but you SO didn't care. i was already so stressed but you just laughed out loud and made me feel self-conscious.
or what about when you marched your ass into the dressing room opening night of "into the woods" at theater in the round? you didn't peak around the corner this time, or give me a coy little poke and wink saying "here i come...i'll be with you soon..." no -- this time you fell from the sky in a heavy drunken thump and freaked me out because again you were not expected till next week and dammit my costume - my GOWN-- it was white and you almost ruined my evening.
so you old hag, a couple of weeks ago notice was thereby issued that i am to be rid of you once and and for all and i told you there was nothing you could do about it.
but you, in your tenacious, stubborn, SNEAKY way, decided to have one last hurrah, didn't you. you tangled yourself up at 4 this morning and then you twisted and punched at the tangles and woke me up to torture me one last time. bonus for you -- i can't take ibuprofen for the next few days because of you know why, and you are delighted! listen ragsucker, that is a super mean trick.
i'm trying to think of something nice to say about you, and about the time we have spent together but, sorry aunt flo, nothing is striking me. instead i am remembering the days before over-the-counter medication that actually worked was available. those days of lying in agony with a hot pad on my stomache and the only thing that that did was burn my skin and make my hair sweat. you made me cry and you made me ache and i have hated you and you need to GO!
wait a sec -- there might be something. give me a minute.
ok, here's one: whenever you visited in the seventh grade, you were my "no questions asked" excuse not to have to take a shower after gym class. i hated that ritual and i was never sweaty anyway but those mean old coaches with pleated skirts and tanned varicose veins insisted we get nude and rinse off. god i was glad when you were there!
and you know what? nobody craves a better feast than you. today, in preparation for our parting, you drove me to porters for a gigantic cheeseburger and fries and two cold beers. midafternoon you lured me into the bedroom, presented me with a pile of fresh pillows, a glass of wine and a great chick flick, and you gave me permission -- no! a directive -- to lounge for a couple of hours even though so many things needed doing.
and what about those times that i paced the floor waiting for you - sometimes for days, and i worried i might not see you -- not for several months! those were crushingly tense days and nights. but you always did arrive, and when you did i cried my eyes out, so relieved that you decided to come and only sorry about the pain after my joy had subsided.
OK OK, we've been through a lot together. but listen cousin, time for you to go. we are getting along worse than ever these days and it isn't good for either one of us.
wednesday is the day, so be sure and say everything you need to say before 7am on the 29th. go ahead, say what you need to say.
by the way, thanks for ordering up spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, my friend,
and brownies for dessert.
if there is anything else, i am listening.
No comments:
Post a Comment