"The Frenchie is back at it," Claudia yells at me from somewhere in the house. My eyes snap open and I sigh. No gentle prods or snuggles ever from that woman. I hate how she wakes me up. "It's my day off, Claudia," I yell back in a cracked and whining voice. I just wanted to sleep in. "I know," she trumpets back, "but you would be a lot more annoyed to be waking up to him in a few minutes here. Am I right about that?" Displeasure seeps into my belly. Claudia is always right about everything. I let out a few incoherent grumbles and give my balding head a good morning scratch, before stretching myself out of bed. She hears the creak of the mattress, my feet thump to the floor. "I'll put on the eggs," she is yelling again, this time I know she is at the bottom of the stairs. "I have another hour before I have to be out of here."
I don't want eggs. I don't want to be awake. I splash aftershave on my unshaven face anyway and sigh again, but this time at the bags under my eyes, just like a woman would. I stayed up too late last night watching the Back to the Future movies that were being played backwards on one of the super stations. I didn't like the movies as a child and I did not particularly enjoy them last night either. I always rebel against sleep when the next day is off. I do not take many of them, since I work from home. Claudia complains a lot about that. It especially annoys her that I take a day off only when she has to go into work her full-day job herself. "Why not a Saturday? A Sunday? A weekend, so we can go to the Coast?" She doesn't quite comprehend that a day off to me means a day off from everything, including her. I will normally leave the house before she is scheduled to appear around dinnertime and will not return until she is getting into her pajamas for the night. She thinks I'm rude. I think I'm sane.
Tomorrow is a Thursday. Maybe I will take it off too, since now my day is spoiled with having to go downstairs too early and having to see her face too.
Don't get me wrong. I love her.
I do.
I really do.
Claudia has made bacon for me, so it is hard to not be grateful for her. She knows it is my second favourite thing in the world and she is okay with me ignoring the doctor on this one. "If they really knew anything, we would all be living to 120." I've heard her say it to everyone we know. And people we do not know. She is not one of those anti-vaxxers or anything. But she can recall seeing a doctor less than a dozen times in her life. I am not like her. If there isn't one, I will find a reason to see a doctor at least every three months. I am not a hypochondriac or anything. I generally stay away from Google, unless I'm thinking about a big purchase. I like the feeling of a needle sliding into my arm. I like reading my results. It's like getting a good report card and seeing your mother's face light up. Beside my food, she has placed the latest edition of Macleans, my cellphone and earbuds, and not herself in the chair next to me.
She's a good girl.
I can hear her doing the laundry.
The Frenchie is a bit of an asshole. I guess I would be too, if I had somehow managed to keep two acres of property in the towncentre. His mother and father were so old for so long, no one remembers how they got their money. Or so they tell me. The other neighbours around here. We have only lived here for 1000 days and will probably live here 2000 more. We've always went where Claudia finds work. And she likes it here. I could be on the moon and still do my job. I make enough money that Claudia doesn't have to work. We like to laugh at the people who think that I 'm a self-absorbed, lazy twit who landed a sugar momma. We both like the fact she doesn't need me for a damn thing.
My neighbour sure has an odd way of making money. But make it he does. A few times a year, he charges people an entrance fee to come on to his property. He can do that. I've called the local government and asked. I stopped calling when they started to sound annoyed to hear from me. I can take a hint. I get it. You fuckers are going to let him do whatever he wants, as long as he keeps paying his taxes. As long as he keeps making his donations. He is clever like that. My neighbour, he is such a helpful man.
He once told me he is a psychic. He handed me a business card with his website on it. I only Googled reviews and didn't find any. I've never been on the site, but I bet the backdrop is purple. I've noticed he slips the colour in every day, even if it is just his socks. Or a ring's gem. The doors on his house are painted purple too. "I am like the Wizard of Oz." he told me, like he believed it. But I laugh because I blurted out that my father was just dead and it was a lie and he fed me lines of bullshit about how much the man loved me. He rested his arm on my shoulder. His fingers touched my neck.
I get up after eating, never touching the magazine, and go back upstairs, but not to sleep. I want to look out of the back bedroom window, the never-used guest bedroom, and see what was going on next-door. It is too early in the season for one of those campouts (for the homeless, the stray cats, the teenagers Homecoming celebrations. I know those kids are drinking beer at 2 a.m., but the police here don't think that's an emergency). Ice sculptures! What the...what is he doing now? I thunder down the stairs to find Claudia at the bottom, putting on her coat.
"We didn't even get an invitation this time." I say it too loud, soft whine and Claudia eyes lift upward and she sighs. We sigh like each other. It isn't so bad that I've seen her this morning now. "It's a snow opera. It posted all over town," she says, with her hand now on the front door knob. Of course it is, I think to myself. "There's going to be fireworks. We have two seats, but it is your day off." She shrugs.
"It is going to be -13 tonight!" I throw my hands up in the air. I am defeated. Today is not how I wanted today. "You should have told me."
But Claudia just laughs. "You like the surprise."
I will be taking off tomorrow too.
I don't want eggs. I don't want to be awake. I splash aftershave on my unshaven face anyway and sigh again, but this time at the bags under my eyes, just like a woman would. I stayed up too late last night watching the Back to the Future movies that were being played backwards on one of the super stations. I didn't like the movies as a child and I did not particularly enjoy them last night either. I always rebel against sleep when the next day is off. I do not take many of them, since I work from home. Claudia complains a lot about that. It especially annoys her that I take a day off only when she has to go into work her full-day job herself. "Why not a Saturday? A Sunday? A weekend, so we can go to the Coast?" She doesn't quite comprehend that a day off to me means a day off from everything, including her. I will normally leave the house before she is scheduled to appear around dinnertime and will not return until she is getting into her pajamas for the night. She thinks I'm rude. I think I'm sane.
Tomorrow is a Thursday. Maybe I will take it off too, since now my day is spoiled with having to go downstairs too early and having to see her face too.
Don't get me wrong. I love her.
I do.
I really do.
Claudia has made bacon for me, so it is hard to not be grateful for her. She knows it is my second favourite thing in the world and she is okay with me ignoring the doctor on this one. "If they really knew anything, we would all be living to 120." I've heard her say it to everyone we know. And people we do not know. She is not one of those anti-vaxxers or anything. But she can recall seeing a doctor less than a dozen times in her life. I am not like her. If there isn't one, I will find a reason to see a doctor at least every three months. I am not a hypochondriac or anything. I generally stay away from Google, unless I'm thinking about a big purchase. I like the feeling of a needle sliding into my arm. I like reading my results. It's like getting a good report card and seeing your mother's face light up. Beside my food, she has placed the latest edition of Macleans, my cellphone and earbuds, and not herself in the chair next to me.
She's a good girl.
I can hear her doing the laundry.
The Frenchie is a bit of an asshole. I guess I would be too, if I had somehow managed to keep two acres of property in the towncentre. His mother and father were so old for so long, no one remembers how they got their money. Or so they tell me. The other neighbours around here. We have only lived here for 1000 days and will probably live here 2000 more. We've always went where Claudia finds work. And she likes it here. I could be on the moon and still do my job. I make enough money that Claudia doesn't have to work. We like to laugh at the people who think that I 'm a self-absorbed, lazy twit who landed a sugar momma. We both like the fact she doesn't need me for a damn thing.
My neighbour sure has an odd way of making money. But make it he does. A few times a year, he charges people an entrance fee to come on to his property. He can do that. I've called the local government and asked. I stopped calling when they started to sound annoyed to hear from me. I can take a hint. I get it. You fuckers are going to let him do whatever he wants, as long as he keeps paying his taxes. As long as he keeps making his donations. He is clever like that. My neighbour, he is such a helpful man.
He once told me he is a psychic. He handed me a business card with his website on it. I only Googled reviews and didn't find any. I've never been on the site, but I bet the backdrop is purple. I've noticed he slips the colour in every day, even if it is just his socks. Or a ring's gem. The doors on his house are painted purple too. "I am like the Wizard of Oz." he told me, like he believed it. But I laugh because I blurted out that my father was just dead and it was a lie and he fed me lines of bullshit about how much the man loved me. He rested his arm on my shoulder. His fingers touched my neck.
I get up after eating, never touching the magazine, and go back upstairs, but not to sleep. I want to look out of the back bedroom window, the never-used guest bedroom, and see what was going on next-door. It is too early in the season for one of those campouts (for the homeless, the stray cats, the teenagers Homecoming celebrations. I know those kids are drinking beer at 2 a.m., but the police here don't think that's an emergency). Ice sculptures! What the...what is he doing now? I thunder down the stairs to find Claudia at the bottom, putting on her coat.
"We didn't even get an invitation this time." I say it too loud, soft whine and Claudia eyes lift upward and she sighs. We sigh like each other. It isn't so bad that I've seen her this morning now. "It's a snow opera. It posted all over town," she says, with her hand now on the front door knob. Of course it is, I think to myself. "There's going to be fireworks. We have two seats, but it is your day off." She shrugs.
"It is going to be -13 tonight!" I throw my hands up in the air. I am defeated. Today is not how I wanted today. "You should have told me."
But Claudia just laughs. "You like the surprise."
I will be taking off tomorrow too.
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