Zippers, Religion & Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Posted by thedarwinexception on December 30, 2007
Zombie lady has left again for the city. This time I shall not worry about her, since she apparently has access to her money, she has a destination and purpose in mind, and I know she will be OK, no mater how long she is gone. She said that she has doctor appointments and “programs” she is involved with to attend, and she has a dental appointment. Not that I believe all this is as a result of her 2 week stay in the hospital for “high blood pressure”, since I’m still not convinced that a diagnosis of “high blood pressure” will merit you a two week uninsured stay in any for-profit hospital, but she has left for the city to keep the appointments, anyway.
I was really hoping she would be here for New Year’s Eve – I would have loved to have brought her to Ray and Lynn’s for the party.
But, she is back to NYC to stay in the Hostel in Chelsea, which is only $30 a day – if you want gender integrity, which means that there are only females (or only males) in the room. She talked highly of the hostel, getting Paul all fired up about the little Asian girls who were her housemates, and the fun party atmosphere, complete with beer, music, dancing and breaking of “gender integrity” rules. I told them both “Yeah, but that was the *beginning* of the movie – and you should see the little Asian girl at the *end*.” Neither understood, having never seen the movie, but I have, and I know better than to stay in a Hostel. I don’t care if Johnny Fucking Depp himself was going to be my non gender integrity roommate – I’m still not staying in any hostel. Especially since she’s getting there by bus – that’s *way* too close to getting there by train. I did tell her, though, “Look, if the Asian girl goes missing – for the love of Christ, don’t go looking for her – or the guy in the orange fucking coat.”
I do hope she hits the garment district again, though. Apparently this Hostel is quite close to 7th Ave and the fashion district, and my own personal Mecca of all that is Holy and Good – Mood Fabrics. Zombie lady went down to 7th Ave, and bought me a fucking SUITCASE full of designer fabrics “wholesale”. She brought me back lame, lined crush velvets, vintage barkcloth, and vintage print jerseys in bolt sized pieces.
She says she bought these “off the street”, since the garment district is full of street vendors selling their wares for much less than the established businesses and storefronts. Which is nice, but still does not quash my intense desire to travel, just once, to the High Holy Chapel of all seamstresses and designers – Mood Fabrics, the destination of the designers each week on Project Runway. Just once I want to go there with a fistful of cash (you’d need it), and buy enough fabric to fill one of their coveted shopping bags. Then I could get back out on the sidewalk, clutching my Mood bag, take a look around, and die right there with a smile on my face.
But Zombie lady did good with the fabric purchases. She got a LOT of good shit. And I’m quite sure that with the amount of money it took to fill the suitcase with fabric from the street vendors, she probably would have only gotten 1 yard of cheap jersey knit at Mood.
And , in wonderful New York City style, she also met a street vendor selling leather goods and apparel in the fashion district and she bought Paul a leather jacket. A nice one, too. He really likes it. Fits him like a glove – I don’t even know how that happened. It’s brown, which is good because Paul already has a black leather motorcycle jacket – this one is brown and is more of a “blazer” style leather jacket.
But, Friday night she stayed here again, sleeping on the couch. I wasn’t going to let her stay in her freezing ass house, and she wanted to make sure Paul shut the water off and checked the basement before she left, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it when she was gone. So he did. Took him almost an hour to get all the snow and ice off of the back bulkhead doors that lead into her basement so they could be opened. Paul did notice though, that those same self stick tiles that she had attempted to do her living room floors in were also stuck on the bulkhead doors, since the wood was rotting in places and she had tried to cover it up.
He finally got in to the basement, and he shut the water off at the main valve. Surprisingly, the pipes hadn’t burst, I guess that’s a ringing endorsement of her plumbing over there. She does, though, have a nasty leak in the kitchen ceiling and another one in the bedroom, which is why there is a puddle of water on the floors in both of those rooms that has frozen over, creating a sheet of ice. Paul told her that once Spring came he would get up on the roof and repair it for her – we have extra stuff left over from our own roof repairs, so it’s not a big deal.
She came over Friday night with the fabric, the jacket, her reading material (a biography of Einstein), and her dinner, Japanese noodles and a package of dried seaweed. And OK – I know I made fun of the last odd meal she made here – that tofu or soybean shit or whatever it was – but that was absolutely NOTHING compared to this dried seaweed shit. This stuff was in these white strips inside the package, and she said that it was perfectly fine to eat it straight from the package in the white eczema looking strips, which would have been bad enough, but she was eating it as a soup, and she put it in boiling water. The minute she put the white flaky eczema strips of seaweed into the boiling water, it turned green and slimy and molded together like felt. AND SHE ATE IT. I’m not kidding you when I say it turned my stomach. It really did. It turned my stomach. I couldn’t watch her eat it.
Saturday morning she called a cab and left for the bus station, to keep her appointments in the city. She said that she wasn’t planning on coming back until March. In the meantime, I am going to get someone to check out her wiring and panel down in the basement, call the light company and have her electricity turned back on. In March it will be one year that she has had no power. When she comes back, I would like the house to at least have electricity. Then, when she gets back, I can also go over and help her clean it up – along with Val, Janice and Leslie. And I’d like to find her at least the basics in furniture – a bed, a couch, a table, some chairs. She was very excited at the prospect of having some furniture. I told her we could probably find her some cheap, sturdy, usable pieces at some of the second hand stores or in the Freetrader, and she got all animated and said “Oh yes! This is what I want – to get some furniture, but I have no transport for pieces.” So I told her we could find her some when she got back – and this made her quite happy. So I think it won’t be difficult to convince her to accept a little help cleaning up the place, hauling the trash out and bringing in at least a semblance of normalcy. I think she would *like* to have these things, but doesn’t know how to go about getting them. She is also *very* interested in getting a woodstove. So I am going to keep an eye on the Freetrader for one of those to get for her, too. And Paul can install it for her. He installed ours with a minimum amount of help. And we have some left over pipe, so it shouldn’t cost as much. If she runs the stove during the day and uses the furnace as a backup it will save her some money, and the woodstove will provide heat even if she doesn’t have electricity.
As some suggested in the comments from yesterday, I did try and get a look at her medications. She said that she was on “Synthroid”, which I am quite familiar with, since Paul was taking that, too, before the doctor switched him. Her pills looked nothing like the ones Paul was taking, but I don’t know if that means anything. There could be different pills for different dosages. But hers were small white pills – Paul’s were yellow. And she didn’t have any pills for the high blood pressure, which I thought was odd. If her condition was serious enough to warrant a two week hospital stay, I would think she would have at least gotten a prescription. B ut she said, no, she didn’t get *any* prescriptions, all she got was a two week supply of Synthroid – and what she got was a sample from the doctor – not in a pill bottle or anything, it was just in a blister pack of 14 pills with no name on the package anywhere. I have no idea – could have been anything, actually. Hell it could have been Benadryl or aspirin for all I know. So that provided no clues whatsoever.
And her statements, what there are of them, only serve to muddle the issues further. She contradicts herself from one story to the next – it’s really hard to know what to take as the truth and what is just paranoia and ramblings. It’s evident that she has access to money at this point, but how much and for what purposes is unclear. She seems to have no problems buying bus tickets back and forth from NYC, but when I talked about buying some pieces of furniture and fixing her roof and maybe even buying a woodstove or a generator, she said that she would have to tell her son about these things and see if he would get them. She pays $30 a day for a hostel, but when I asked if they had internet access there, and she said that they did, she also said “But I have no working computer at this time – my other computer is not working and my son – he does not like the computers and he said he will not fix it.” So it’s confusing – she has money for *some* things – some discretionary income, but seemingly even *small* purchases have to be made with her sons approval or something. I don’t know. But this is odd in itself, since she truly has no contact with her son – she says she didn’t even see him when she was in the city this last time. So I just can’t reconcile “I don’t speak to my son – even on Christmas or Thanksgiving” with “I’ll have to ask my son if I can put in a woodstove.” It’s all just very, very weird.
But this time when she left I gave her my phone number, I told her to call me if she needed to, and she was quite appreciative of the offer, and told me to again keep an eye on her house and make sure the cops didn’t go in and take anything – she’s still convinced they took her beef stew and that they are going to come back for other things. What? I do not know – maybe her newspapers littered with her handwritten comments in the margins.
We talked a little as she was getting ready to leave – I taped some of it. She also gave Paul a hat – which he wore for the rest of the day. She spoke a little about her mother, her own dark skin, waiting in line in Moscow to see the first American movie shown in the country, and how her mother and her mother’s friends prayed to marry men who weren’t blonde. A little glimpse into the zombie lady and her life experiences. Maybe someone here more astute than I can glean a few clues into her psyche out of it.