Have you ever had a dream where you are searching for some tiny, minute, something, but your eyes won't work right so everything looks like fish eating marshmallows or your fingers turn into worms and you can't pick anything up?
I had one of those last night. I was dreaming about the Aztec calendar and trying to figure out how you read one.

What day is it here? Month? Year?
Maybe they kept track differently or something, but where do I make a note that I have a doc's appointment next week? What day does July 22nd fall on? When is Columbus day? How do I mark my upcoming vacation?


I went out this morning foraging for coffee and brandy and I ran into someone who used to live in the building. Nice enough guy. Andy is his name. He's one of those old school G's with the chinos and the plaid shirt buttoned up to the top button and the dark sunglasses. He needed a haircut. He walked with me to the liquor store. He was kinda annoying me because he kept apologizing and trying to explain himself. He called me "babe" (which does not bother me in the least) and then spent the next ten minutes explaining why he called me babe and how I shouldn't be offended by that because he calls everyone babe, remembering names gets him in to trouble, apparently.

WHO THE HELL CARES?

I told him he could use a haircut. I just didn't think he looked as dapper as he could, you know? He said, "but the ladies like me with long hair"
I said, "fine then keep it." This blew his mind!
"Well, I suppose I should shave my head then, would that make you happy?"
"Where in the heck did that come from? All I said was I think you could use a haircut." Freak.

We finally got to the open store and the counter guy was apathetic but appreciative.
Andy said at one point "you have to excuse my wife" referring to me. I'm not sure what I needed to be excused for, but I said "yeah, when you see his wife, excuse her".

Then we started walking back towards homebase. I told him to stop explaining himself and he explained why he needed to explain himself.
I got to my street and said, "I'm going this way". He replied, "You're leaving me here?"
"No, I'm going this way, this is where the coffee is."
"You're leaving me here?"
"No, I'm going this way, this is where the coffee is."
"Fine, leave me here"
"OK, Andy, nice seeing you."
"Bye, Babe!"
whew.

Oh, yeah, great news! My annoying, yelling all the time neighbors moved OUT!! No more yelling, no more mud puddle in front of his door, no more having him make a huge show out of opening the door for me.
God, I hated that guy.
He didn't go far, I saw him out my window this morning, making a big show out of opening the door of the laundry across the street for two women carrying a bag of clothes.
A DOOR THAT WAS ALREADY OPEN.

I don't like it when men put on this show of "chivallry" I probably spelled that wrong, but you know what I mean.
If you are right in front of me and I have an armload, please do open the door for me. There is nothing wrong with being polite and holding the door for anyone, but if you are sprinting across the compound to grab a door that I could easily open for myself, or making me rush across the compound because you are holding a door for me for no apparent reason... Why?

One of my co-workers, the transitional employee (TE), when we were moving, started insisting on helping me with doors, lifting, etc. Things I don't need help with. I have been in the pushing large objects through small spaces business for a long time. If I need help, I will ask. If not, get the heck outta my way! You aren't impressing anyone with your outdated etiquitte.

Is it just me? I hate being treated like I'm weak.
I'm strong. I know I'm not as stong as most men but I'm pretty skankin strong. And I'm not shy, either. If I need help, I won't hesitate to ask for it.
I told the TE, "I'm sure there are better ways to spend your time than holding doors for me when I don't need them held".
He replied, "Can't I just be a gentleman?"
"No. You can't. Go spend your time working, you aren't getting paid to be a gentleman."
Seriously. I was hired for this job partly because I can lift and carry 50+ lbs. Correctly. Without hurting myself or anyone else.

When I was walking down the street with Andy he made a big show out of asking me to walk on the inside and I refused.
"What do you think, I am not capable of walking along the outside edge of the sidewalk? Do you think I may fall off the curb? Do you even know why you want me to walk on the inside? Trust me, I can navigate a sidewalk from either side. Ambidextrous, I am."
"Buh, buh buh" he sputtered as I purposely walked as close to the curb as I could.


Please, any men who are reading this respond and tell me why you are holding on to these archaic "gentlemanly" things.
Also tell me how come when I have to go home in the dark, alone there are no big, strong men to escort me? Because I need that. Maybe they can show me the gentlemanly way to use the big knife I carry.