I MUST Be Crazy!

I went out there and sanded & painted the greenhouse. Not just the windows, not just the brown pickets, but the refrigerator case, too. It's all white now.

As soon as it's dry...which will probably be ten minutes, in the bright, dry Albuquerque sun, I'll scrape the windows of excess paint.

Got paint on my denim "prairie" skirt and on me, of course, so I took a "bath" outside with paint thinner. Got every SPOT of paint off my skirt, and treated some grease stains, too, while I was at it.

Picked everything up, stripped on my porch to let the thinner evaporate outside, ran in and showered. AHHHHH! Hot water: best thing ever for sore muscles.

See, last night, the Loud Lesbian pulled up in the alley behind Rowen's wall. Seems we have the same landlord, and LL is being threatened with eviction for piles of wood and junk at her place.

So, she'd brought a ripped-up, upholstered easy chair to dump in the alley behind Rowen's, right in my line of sight, thank you very much. I'm going to ask Rowen if I can take it all apart. It's got pretty, turned wood on it and it's on a swivel base, which would be excellent for a big tub of plants which need turning for full sun exposure.

Well, Loud Lesbian, it seems, was whining to Rowen about my greenhouse, my wooden packing crate planter, and my washing machine planter (the last, by the way, is cleverly disguised so it doesn't look like crap). Basic translation: how come THAT's ok with the landlord, and not LL's junk collection?

I didn't hear that part. All I heard was Rowen, saying "she" and "refrigerator."

I put Porkchop in the house and went out to the alley.

"Are you saying something nice about me, Rowen?"

Rowen explained she was bragging about how beautiful has been the garden I scratched out of the empty lot, and about how clever and resourceful she thought me, for converting a hazard and eyesore, that old refrigerator and those ugly windows, into such a pretty greenhouse.

Frankly, I think the only reason the landlord hasn't whined is that he never comes to the back of the property...and rarely to the front!

Loud Lesbian told me once to shut up, when I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Peace & Justice Center. I was bragging and whooping to a Navajo garage band about how excited I am that I have a scooter coming.

LL: "shhhh! They're on a spiritual journey inside!"

Me: "So am I!"

Loud Lesbian has no such compunctions when it comes to screaming outside my bedroom window, however, and scaring the snot out of me.

Anyway, the greenhouse will be finished when I scrape the windows.

When I went out there at dawn to turn off the lamps, the thermometer read 80 degrees. It couldn't have been more than sixty, outside: down right chilly.

If Loud Lesbian goes to the landlord and whines, "how come SHE gets to have stuff outside HER place, and I DON'T," I'll have to confront her.

Basically, LL, the difference is that I don't just have a pile of junk and weeds outside my place. I didn't leave building materials and busted down washer parts lying around. It's neat, it's clean, it's attractive, it's useful.

So, shut up; I'm on a spiritual journey.

ps: I am not using the word, "Lesbian," as some sort of epithet or put down. She's a Lesbian; I don't know her name. I could have IDed her by physical description, but if one of her friends reads this and reports back to her, she could make my life miserable.

I could easily, and frequently, been IDed in the past as Loud Lesbian, and probably was. I would not have resented it. I probably called myself that, from time to time.

Now, however, I'm more a Boistrous Bisexual.