Randomness #1126

Last night I wrote that I was struggling to juggle all the balls I've got in the air right now, including that ball that represents my overdue library books, and the $13+ I'd accrued in fees. This morning I was at the hospital getting some blood drawn, a long list of errands resting heavy in my pocket, when I got a text from my librarian friend Steamy Cynthia telling me she had renewed my library books for me.

As I sat there in the crowded waiting room I had to wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. Sweet acts of kindness affect me that way.

Last week after I wrote that I was having trouble choosing paint colors in my bedroom, she reserved a bunch of books on decorating bedrooms and color choices in general, and had them sent to my local branch of the library. (She works at a different one.) I had the same reaction then. Sappy.

So now you know. The way to make me cry is to do something nice. It doesn't even have to be for me. Surprise anybody with kindness, and I'll probably cry about it.

I'm still struggling with the bedroom wall color though. I finally decided on what I thought was the perfect color, and I bought a gallon of that color .... turned out it was too light. So today I went back to Home Depot and bought another gallon 2 shades darker. It looks perfect in the can. On the wall it looks like I've been fingerpainting with poop. I have never painted in a house that changes the color of paint once it's on the walls like this one does. I will not put put up the eggshell white flag though.

I recently started watching The Blacklist for one reason and one reason only: James Spader. What is it about this man that compels me so? He's not traditionally handsome. He talks funny, like he has to chew his words into submission before he reluctantly lets them go out into the world. He plays the same basic character over and over, and yet I never get tired of him. I was devastated when Boston Legal was cancelled. He was brilliant in that show.

I want to have him over for Thanksgiving dinner, because I'm certain he would adore my pumpkin pie. And then, of course, he'd have to spend the night, because I always make extra homemade whipped cream his wife would probably be angry that he didn't spend Thanksgiving with his family, so she'd tell him to not bother coming home. I could live with that. Whipped cream makes up for a lot.

Today, as I mentioned,  I was at the base hospital, which is a conservative place, quite unlike hospitals in the city where you might witness all manner of craziness. And that's why I was so puzzled when I noticed that the woman ahead of me on the sidewalk, who appeared to be in her 40's, had something that looked suspiciously like a thin striped tail hanging down from her .... well, her tail area.

What the hell is that? I thought. It can't be a tail. Why would she be walking through the base hospital with a tail made of fabric hanging out of her shirt? It's striped so it can't be a .... what the fuck else could it be?

I hurried to catch up, because I was afraid I was gaslighting myself. The man who was with her was older -- maybe 10 years older. I thought maybe I'd misjudged her age, and she was a very large 9-year-old who was there with her father. She turned to talk to the man and .... nope. In her 40's.

As I got closer I realized the tail was part of a sweatshirt that looked like something my 2-year-old granddaughter Coraline might wear. The hood was a cat face with gray ears lined with pink, and at the end of the sleeves she had paws hanging down.

Well, hey. Who am I to judge someone else's fashion choices? I just think it I were going to wear a tail to the hospital, I wouldn't wear a flat, obviously fake, tail made of fabric. I'd wear a big, fluffy, furry, red fox tail that hung down to my knees and bounced when I walked.

But that's just me.

What kind of tail would you wear to the hospital?