Monday, May 02, 2011

An evening of silliness

First, I stepped in cat puke the minute I left my house, heading for class.

I found a lucky parking spot, a meter spot meaning I would only have to pay about $1.00 to park for the evening, instead of paying $4.00 to park at a lot.

But then, as I was on my way from my car to my nonprofit management class, the bag on my briefcase (a "lady's briefcase and laptop bag" purchased at Target for about $20 in 2008) finally succumbed to gravity and the weight of textbooks, Nook, water bottle, notebooks, and laptop within. One of the straps tore and snapped away from its fastening. Carefully, I clutched my bag to my chest the rest of the way to class, and later, from class back to my car.

And finally, the silly evening came to its concluding silliness. From class, I went to my boyfriend's house. I parked my car around a corner from his front door. When I opened my car door, I heard the bell-like music of glass bottles making contact with one another--the tintinnabulation of Recycling Day.

As I rounded the corner, I saw a man bent over the recycling. I recognized his baggy black shorts and bright yellow windbreaker. Intent on taking out the recycling, he was unaware that his black shorts had slid below his waist, revealing a couple of inches of butt crack. Awwww, I thought, filled with fondness toward that disheveled, yellow-jacketed man.

"Is that you, my Handsome Man?" I said lovingly, playfully.

The words were barely out of my mouth when the horrible realization was in my mind. That's not my boyfriend!

It was a homeless guy. I can't say for sure that he doesn't have a home, actually, but he was one of the disheveled kooks one finds on the eve of Recycling Day in Portland, going through the trash in search of beer bottles to exchange for nickels at the grocery store. That was not my boyfriend's butt crack!

The man did not respond. I walked briskly to the gate and up the front stairs; luckily the front door was unlocked and I could enter without waiting to be let in, without sharing any awkward silences with the trash sorter. The man continued to shuffle through the trash.



(Epilogue/Denouement) Shortly after entering my boyfriend's house, I discovered that the zipper of my jeans was unzipped, and had been for an undetermined length of time.

2 comments:

Sif said...

The best stories are true ones!

LS said...

Hehe - I won't say that this is typical you, but.... very funny!