There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza…
Jun 15th, 2006 by B.
One of my neighbors, I swear, is nuts. I see her probably 4-6 times a week and each time… it doesn’t matter what time of the day it is… I could be checking mail mid-afternoon, returning from an evening walk, or running to grab something out of the car in the morning… she is always around and *always* doing the same damn thing.
You see, she has this little tin bucket (about the size of a small purse) that she uses to transfer garbage from point ‘a’ to point ‘b’. She must dump it after every meal. Seriously. And she doesn’t just dispose of it, oh no… she makes a production of it. She’s probably 45ish, with overly-dyed hair, long manicured red nails (lipstick to match) and ramrod straight posture. As if that wasn’t enough, each and every time I’ve seen her she’s been decked out in a form-fitting black skirt, button-down blouse and shiny high heels. I ask you, who the hell wears all this crap to take the trash out?? You can always hear her coming too… first it’s the click-click of heels on stairs, followed by the clop-clop of heels on the cobblestone walkway to our trash bins.
And here I am the polar opposite. My idea of a ‘trash run’ is throwing my hair in a messy top-knot and lugging a hefty bag down five flights of stairs while wearing a sports bra, yoga pants and my ’shiny happy people’ t-shirt (which is just barely on the surviving end of 12 years of wash & wear). If I’m feeling ‘dressy’ I’ll throw on sunglasses because, as everyone knows, they are the universal subsitute for makeup.
So naturally seeing this chick walking down the stairs day in / day out with her little bucket swinging in one hand and her cigarette in the other… acting all stepford & cool-cucumbery, well, it drives me nuts. Maybe it’s all the Buffy episodes, but if I didn’t know better I’d swear she was a robot. A trash-disposing-bleached-blonde-eva-braun-wannabe-robot.
Yep, and when it comes to her I swear I’m equal parts annoyed, perplexed… and oddly sexually curious. It’s like I don’t know if I want to trip her, ban her from the building, or lay in bed naked with her while she chain smokes and (in a heavily german accent) reads the naughty parts of Anne Frank’s Diary to me…
On this day..
- One quarter down... - 2007
- Give peace a chance. - 2006
Anne Frank doesn’t have naughty bits in it, does it?
No, seriously, I’ve never got past the first chapter.
LOL & ewww! Thanx for another interesting entry B ;-D
Ms. Mac- Well, naughty in an innocent ‘coming of age sort of way’. I was actually going to say ‘juicy parts of Ann Frank’s Diary…’ but I thought it sounded too, you know, gay.
Lisa- heh… you should be used to this by now.
I don’t much care which fate you pick for the chiquita, I just want to be able watch! Possibly videotaping if it’s the latter..
See thats why I keep coming back
I can always count on you to make me laugh.
I’d be curious as to the cnotents of that little bucket. Maybe she has a dead body in her apartment and is disposing of it piece by piece in order not to attract too much attention to herself.
*runs off to the library to check out Anne Frank’s Diary”