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Small Escapes March 29, 2010

Posted by indigobunting in Uncategorized.

The troubles with A.N. (see previous post) have not gone away and perhaps have only worsened in the last ten days. So far, he has not knocked on the door today, but the day ain’t over. I don’t know what the answer is. Sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own house. (A prisoner with nothing to say, apparently, given my complete lack of blogging.)

Despite this, I have had some good moments in the aforementioned last ten days. Most of these moments have involved leaving the house, which is one way, of course, to stop feeling imprisoned in it. For example:

  • Lunch at the café at the goat farm down the road, both weekends, listening to Matt on guitar and sucking down the best toasted cheese sandwiches ever.
  • A couple of gourmet dinners with Tim and Dan, followed one evening by a night walk on the rail trail, during which time I heard my first woodcock of the season. Thrill.
  • A date with Tim to see Casablanca on a huge screen. Front-row balcony seats.
  • Getting PNF (proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation) stretched.
  • A visit from some dear Northbrook friends, whom we hadn’t seen since the place closed—a visit during which Indigo Bunting learns that it is not a good idea to throw diesel-fuel-splashed jeans into a washing machine.
  • Another salon at Lali’s, this one on beekeeping, starring our friend Deb (now back in town, or she would have been having gourmet dinners with me and Tim and Dan).
  • A very quick trip up the mountain to see a brother-in-law, sister-in-law, sister-out-law, two nieces, and a nephew, who are spending a couple of days skiing.

And no doubt some other stuff.

April is looming with some scary unknowns. I am feeling rather unsettled.


1. indigobunting - March 29, 2010

3:46 pm today: A.N. knocks at the door, asking if I cut hair. He can’t believe the answer is no. Not even my husband’s? No. Seriously. He came to my door looking for a haircut.

2. Craig (Maito Sewa Yoleme) - March 29, 2010

My crazy neighbor knocked last night at 11:15 p.m. My TV was on rather loud, so I felt I had to at least look through the peephole. When I did, he saw me and started waving wildly. “It’s your neighbor!” he shouted. I opened the door, and he said he saw my lights on (living room lights, not porch lights) and figured I was still up. He wanted to borrow $20, and he said he’d give me $30 first thing in the morning. Something about needing it for his girlfriend, but I didn’t listen too carefully.

I didn’t even think: I lied and said I didn’t have any money in the house, and shut the door as quickly as I could. I’m getting rather sick of this.

3. indigobunting - March 29, 2010

Craig: I feel your pain.

4. Eulalia Benejam Cobb (Lali) - March 29, 2010

Indigo, this is insane! Can you just not answer the door? Tell your friends they must call before they come over? Tell A.N. to leave you alone? He’s clearly abusing your good nature.

5. Helen - March 29, 2010

It sounds like you’ve had LOTS of good moments over the past 10 days. But I would hate to have a neighbour who makes me feel imprisoned in my own home. Asking for a haircut??? Actually, maybe you should have given him one–a really, really bad one. I know it’s awkward, but maybe, as Lali says, it would be best to tell him that you can’t offer him any more help.

6. Dona - March 29, 2010

I cannot imagine a neighbor like yours. You seem to handle it well, though.

Keep on doing things outside the house, but you should not feel imprisoned inside your house at all.

7. Bridgett - March 30, 2010

Craig: my parents’ neighbor once requested $500. I haven’t even requested that from my parents…and IB, I heard my first woodcock in my life this weekend. I thought of you (and then of course, I couldn’t stop laughing at its name…I’m such a teenaged boy)

8. Mali - March 31, 2010

I love the fact you have a cafe (with live music) at the goat farm down the road. I want to go there with you.

9. indigo bunting - March 31, 2010

Ah, I wish the answer were easy. Someday, Lali, we can talk about it in person. (And, as noted before, sometimes I don’t answer the door. But eventually I have to. And I don’t want him to have my phone number!)

Bridgett, sometimes I’m absolutely convinced I’m a 13-year-old boy trapped in the body of a 48-year-old woman.

Mali: I’d love for you to! It’s modest, to be sure, but quite wonderful. They just won some awards at the world cheese competition.

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