... And Then She Was Gone

Yeah, this Prison Break thing is starting to get out of hand. Ali woke me up Saturday morning holding a broken light bulb over my left eye. That was about the right time, I reckoned, to let her know that that stuff doesn't happen in my house. Big mistake, but that's all I'm gonna say about that. She put the lightbulb in the trash and told me I had no sense of humour. Somehow, I was in the doghouse when really all I wanted to do was save my eye ball.

The doghouse - a familiar milieu for me. Sunday morning Ali blared into my ear a nice Japanese jingle Ii kata aru zo... Misuta Do-onatsu. I didn't even ask, I just pulled on my jeans and stuff and shlepped around the block looking for a Dunkin Donuts. I came back with two fritters and a coffee (for me, stupidly) and crawled back into bed.

This whole roommate thing has its advantages, its disadvantages, but better still, its humourous moments. I am lucky enough to have a dishwasher in my flat, but Ali insists upon washing the dishes by hand - where she learned that I'll never know - and then using the dishwasher effectively as a drying rack. Sissy used to think I was weird because I would rinse, or soak the tough grime before loading the washer, but this takes the cake. Ali actually washes the dishes before putting them in the washer, but she doesn't turn the washer on. I giggle.

Another fun time was teaching Ali how to use the clothes washer - I have one of those in my flat too with a dryer even. I left for work one morning and asked Ali to do the washing and when I came home I noticed that there was nothing to be washed. Instinctively, I went to the dryer and looked for things to fold. There was nothing. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Did you do the washing?

Ali: Yeah.

Me: Where is it?

Ali: It's out.

Me: Out?

Ali: Yeah!

Me: Out where?

Ali: At the cleaners. I called the service.

Me: Oh. You know, you can do the washing here (gesturing to the washer and drying stack).

Ali: Oh, I thought that was a coat closet... You do laundry?

Me: Yes, famously. Come here - I'll show you how to operate the machines.

Well, I nearly had a heart attack a few days later when I saw her doing a load of "whites" and then she slipped off her pyjama bottoms - her bright red pyjama bottoms - and tossed them in the wash. "Awwww SNAP! What are you DOING?", I asked incredulously. "What's your fucking problem? Maid always washed our pyjamas with the whites". I steadied myself and then took a deep breath, remembering an e-mail that Sissy had sent me a few days earlier:

Washing Clothes Recipe

Never thought of a "washer" in this light before... what a blessing!
'Washing Clothes Recipe' -- imagine having a recipe for this!!!

Years ago an Alabama grandmother gave the new bride the following recipe:

This is an exact copy as written and found in an old scrapbook - with spelling errors and all.

WASHING CLOTHES

Build fire in backyard to heat kettle of rain water. Set tubs so smoke wont blow in eyes if wind is pert. Shave one hole cake of lie soap in boilin water.

Sort things, make 3 piles
1 pile white,
1 pile colored,
1 pile work britches and rags.

To make starch, stir flour in cool water to smooth, then thin down with boiling water.

Take white things, rub dirty spots on board, scrub hard, and boil, then rub colored don't boil just wrench and starch.

Take things out of kettle with broom stick handle, then wrench, and starch.

Hang old rags on fence.

Spread tea towels on grass.

Pore wrench water in flower bed. Scrub porch with hot soapy water. Turn tubs upside down.

Go put on clean dress, smooth hair with hair combs. Brew cup of tea, sit and rock a spell and count your blessings.

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Paste this over your washer and dryer. Next time when you think things are bleak, read it again, kiss that washing machine and dryer, and give thanks. First thing each morning you should run and hug your washer and dryer, also your toilet---those two-holers used to get mighty cold!

For you non-southerners -wrench means rinse. ;)


For the record, I know what wrench water is - not because I'm from the South, which I'm not - but because I spent more than a few Saturdays as a kid at Gran's house (helping) do(ing) the washing in a similar fashion.

After the whole doughnut incident, I decided that I needed to watch a sporting event. I bought a couple tickets to a Jets game. We lost, but Ali enjoyed it - I think. I spent half of the first quarter in the beer queue and spent a bargain $7.50 for a regular size serving. Eeee! When I got back to the seats Ali was checking out the free Jets shirt she got from a vendor. I smiled because it wasn't red - fucking red. Ali said she would have enjoyed it more if she knew the rules, but I couldn't give a damn about the rules. I care about the objective, and the objective couldn't be simpler.

So I haven't seen any movies lately, though I was tempted to rent Layer Cake again but instead spent last Friday evening trying to collect Ali's vitamin supplements in Newark. She hummed Lalo Schifrin's Mission Impossible the whole time. Delighted. That's another thing I love about Ali - she has a real talent for music. She studied the bassoon, but she doesn't call it that. Apparently, in Japanese they use the italian fagotto, but I can't use that word. It's not practical. Imagine me trying to introduce Ali to some friends in a café:

Abe: So, this shiksa - What does she do?

Me: Not much, I guess. A little hostessing, and she's learning English at school.

Moshe: Well, what did she do before?

Me: Finance, I think. I'm not too sure.

Wayne the Goy: Any hobbies?

Me: Uhhh, she used to play the faggoto. I mean --

[cup flies across the café just missing my precious eye]

Michael, the Easily Offended Homosexual with a Knee-jerk Response: WHAT? What did you just call me?

Me: Whoa whoa whoa, dude. I was merely using the Italian for the tenor woodwind, a bassoon. Surely, you're familiar...

Michael: You just, you just shut it. I'm proud of who I am, and I don't need to hear your negativity.

Me: Dude.

[end imaginary conversation]

I wanted to rent the movie because one of my recent converts saw it and had a few questions that I couldn't answer. I needed to watch it again. I will not rest until the entire world sees Layer Cake.

Not seeing any movies, but having a lot of fun planning parties. Get this, two of Ali's friends are taking some ridiculous speed holiday and they have a 2 day stopover which happens to coincide with one's birthday. One of these new roommate things is that you have to be ready to open your home to strangers, partiers and other revelers at any time. I'm getting used to it quite quickly because well, I don't really have a choice. Until now, the only party I've ever hosted was a lukewarm birthday party for Bobby and myself a few years ago. Never again... maybe. Okay, so the party sucked, but the food and alcohol - oy!

I raced home after work to get some nosh started because Ali was too busy showing her friends the sights. When they arrived home, they were too full to enjoy my lobster/crab canapés and weren't too interested in the sake. Ali didn't tell me that her friends don't drink. Oh well, at least they had room later on for the cake. Chocolate mousse over caramelized bananas with crème brulée filling on a financier crust. We bought it, but it was still good. We had a great time afterall, but seeing these two chicks leave only brought home the fact that Ali was leaving two days after. Right now she's having a nice little holiday in Miami, probably enjoying her favourite drink, a tequila dacquiri - sounds disgusting I know, but it's actually quite good - and grooving to those latin rhythms. Eeeee! The next time I see her will be in Newark. Hopefully that won't be a mission impossible.

By the way -- Layer Cake!