Whaterya pick'n wit yer cherry picka?

Monday, May 29, 2006

(old post from the myspace)

Yesterday I pooped out on the couch.
Saturday was good, Pepper Place Market, chat with Alli, work, read a little, cooked for Leslie's dinner thing. I was heading out the door with my sort of tragically healthy-looking white beans and greens (mustard, chard, beet), when my mom called. I won't go into it here but basically I spent the next two hours on the phone, trying to work out a family situation. Sadly, missed the potluck. Sooooo many beans and greens!
So yesterday I pooped out on the couch. It's hot here in the 'Ham (northwesterners: by hot I mean, you would die) and I can't really afford to AC my poorly insulated apartment as much as I would like. By 3pm I had watched five hours of TV and was down to my underware (no cookies in sight) with a glass of water on my tummy.
If you've never been to my place then I should explain that I live in the top floor of a house that has been converted into apartments. The house is situated on a steep hill so that the back end sits very far off of the surrounding streets. For this reason, I don't really bother to close my blinds on the north or east faces of the apartment. Therefore, you may be able to imagine my surprise as my landlord's head slowly rose up into my livingroom window yesterday afternoon.
Me? I grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and dove over the back of the couch. Nothing breaks up a really good afternoon of wallowing like crouching on your own living room floor, hiding behind the couch and trying to find the armholes of your t-shirt. Feeling kind of pissed off and exhausted by actually moving my ass for only the third time that day, I gave up and took a nap on the floor behind the couch.
When I finally got up, there was a man-lift /cherry-picker/ thing-a-majig still parked on the front lawn but nobody looking into my bedroom, bathroom, or living room windows. I did what seemed appropriate, took off my t-shirt and watched three more hours of TV on the couch.
This morning I woke up, decided that I would never watch TV again AND that I would definately wear clothes for most of the day. Good thing too, because I had to go into work. When I looked outside, my landlord was still at it. I was walking out to my car when he saw me and offered me a ride in the lift. I assured him that I'm not afraid of hights (kind of a lie) and climbed up into the basket. We rode up and then he pushed the arm out over the empty lot next to my house. The lot sits well below the street line so suddenly the ground was more than fifty feet away, then sixty....we were well over the roof of my house. I could see the entire city, 360 degrees. A bit higher and we were over the top of the magnolia tree in my yard.
Someone across the street yelled "Whaterya pick'n wit yer cherry picka?" but I couldn't see them. I looked down at my apartment. I could see my bedroom, my bathroom, and my living room. In the living room I could see the TV, the couch, and OH GOD, the back of the couch. I could see the couch pillow I had napped on in my panties and t-shirt. I could see three water glasses, a lunch plate, and a coffee mug on the floor in front of the couch. The dishes were nestled in drifts of junk mail and netflix envelopes. I looked at my landlord and said "Wow, you can really see my whole apartment, huh?"
He was looking over downtown Birmingham and said "Oh really?" Then, glancing over he said "Oh...yeah, I guess you can."
On the way back down we stopped in the tree and picked magnolia blossoms.
The moral of this story? Clean your house and put some damn clothes on. I know it's hot but there may be people outside with cherry pickers.
-M
PS-want any beans and greens? I still have a ton left.