DON’T ASK !!!

Wednesday, February 01, 2006
11:22 AM
DON’T ASK !!!Sometimes you just don’t ask questions because you might not be able to live with the answer. This morning I woke with a gram cracker under my breast. Yes, that’s what I said; I had a gram cracker under my breast. Imagine my surprise when I woke up being scratched and poked by the pointy sides of those green elves’ magic tree deliciousness. Yup, sometimes DID offers humor.

I woke up the other day.. heck, I say that like it’s only happened once. Let me be truthful, many times I’ve gotten up and walked into the living room and thought to myself, why didn’t they invite me to the party. The 3 silk trees are turned over like a twister came through. There’ll be clothes everywhere and dishes stacked all high like I'd been gone for days. Like I just got back off a business trip or something to find that the roommate threw a party while I was gone and then a twister came through and he just left everything where it lay. Seeing as how I'm the only one who lives in this part of the house and that I’ve lived alone most of my adult life there is no way anyone came through, had a party and then left. But I do not ask what happened.

There have been times when, while living alone, I’ll get up to use the restroom and the toilet seat will be raised as if a man forgot to put the seat down. Again, I don’t ask why. There is some information I don’t need to know. It’s kind of like putting your hand in gunk on the escalator at the mall. You don’t look to see what it is. You don’t ask yourself, I wonder if that was this or that. You just wipe it off (or put the seat down as it were) and go on like nothing ever happened. There is just some information you’re better off without. The raised toilet seat in the house of a single woman with no boyfriend is one question you should never stop to ponder.

On the street I’ve been called Beatrice and Geoff repeatedly. Of all the names why Beatrice? Why? Well, I eventually did ask if there was a Beatrice and a Geoff because it kept happening when I'd go downtown. Then there was the time when I showed up dressed rather unprofessionally when I work as the secretary of a law firm that was also downtown. It felt right, natural even as I dressed then fit body in a tight white shirt, a short, short black mini-skirt, black hoes and black high heals. It felt right walking into the office this way. It felt right sitting at the front desk with my hair up looking like a lady of the night. But then I came back to myself. It no longer felt right to look like a ho for the law. So, I went home. They didn’t ask and I didn’t tell. The next day when I came dressed in a black dress with a black scarf over my head looking like a nun they didn’t ask anything either. They just said things weren’t working out and that it was best if we parted ways. I didn’t understand.

The phone rang this morning. The caller asked for Rodney. I told her she had the wrong number. Once the doc’s gave me the diagnosis of DID those “wrong number” phone calls became, “this might be the wrong number” phone calls. You never really know any more if the caller has the wrong number or not. But, I didn’t ask if there was a Rodney inside who had an older white woman looking for him. I just didn’t ask. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Sometimes you just have to let things go. You have to roll with the punches even when those punches come one after the other relentlessly. One must exercise humility and be willing to see the humor in things if they plan to live life successfully with its many stressors, ups and down and flat out disappointments.

Smiles to you,
Aussie