“Guests,
like fish, begin to smell after three days.” -Benjamin Franklin
Yesterday
I call up my friend from Plymouth and before I can say “Hi,” he
barrels in with:
“36
Hours! That's it! 36 hours and I wanted him OUT!”
He
was referring to an old college buddy from Holy Cross who was
stopping by while on his way to the Cape to visit family. Apparently
they aren't all that buddy/buddy now.
“He's
turned into an Old Nelly! After 12 hours I wanted to kill him!”
says B again.
B
goes on, “Do you know what he did?”
So
he tells me. “He put the cover to the toilet down.
I got up around three am to take a leak and being half asleep, I was
pissing all over the cover, wondering why my socks feel wet and warm!
I NEVER put the cover down on the toilet!”
“...and
he brought is own FOOD...since when does a guest bring their own
FOOD?”
“...and
tissues! He uses tissues all the time, I'm still cleaning up bits of
that paper everywhere!”
B
stops, takes a deep breath and tells me;
“I
know...I am a bad man...I know I can't tolerate most people anymore.
I am set in my ways and now, no one can live in this house but me. I
know I can go off on people for the smallest things.”
“Yeah,
you can.” I respond
“What??”
he says, a bit surprised that I agreed.
“I
said, you can become furious over the smallest
things. I wonder why you can invest such emotion and energy into
anthills?”
His
admission to having a short temper wasn't ready for my confirming it
apparently.
There
was that telling pause from him on the phone, then answered...”Ok,
you know it too. But don't tell me you haven't that mousetrap-spring,
freaking temper. You go off like a nuke over stuff that isn't that
important!”
So
I tell him, “Yeah, I do, but it doesn’t appear every two weeks!
My problem is burying the thousand little annoyances till Mt Vesuvius
decides to blow.” I know this. I've known myself a long time now.
There
was another pause and he finally concluded...”Alright...You
suppress and I exaggerate tiny annoyances. It's not like we two will
change that much in the future.”
After
that, I shifted the conversation to some local gossip.
I
saw this yesterday at the watering hole. Ann lazily walks by me
muttering...”Where's my coat? I put my coat here...It's not
here...Where is my coat?”
“What
kind of coat is it?” I ask, barely glancing at her.
“It's
a black leather one...oh wait..here it is!”
I
stop her from taking it, as that was Katherine's.
“But
where's MY coat?” she goes on.
I
then look to see her wearing a black leather coat.
“Ann...what's
on your shoulders?” I ask.
“Uh....Ohhhh...(
a little drunken laughter) I thought I put it around one of these
chairs...(more laughter)
I
think, you've got to be well irrigated with booze to forget you're
wearing you own coat!
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