Friday, April 21, 2006

#650 Thursday, Sick Van Again, and Friday

Friday, April 21, 2006

Well, well. No entry yesterday again. Maybe Mother IS losing it!

After Wednesday's entry, things got complicated. Roman was supposed to meet with Piper Wednesday afternoon, after which Roman and I would have dinner and a movie or something. Roman called during his lunch break to finalize, and I noticed that there was a message on my machine (I had been working in the basement and must have missed a call.) So after Roman hung up, I checked the message, and it was Piper - he had a plumbing problem at home, and wouldn't be able to meet with Roman, but was unable to contact him to cancel. I didn't have Roman's work number either. There ensued a few rounds of three-way phone tag, plus a trip into the village to put a note on Piper's office door, telling Roman to just come here when he arrived.

That ate up the afternoon. When I was finally able to catch Roman at his home, I asked if he still wanted to come to see me, and he said "Yes", which was nice, but then he added "I know the consequences if I don't." Which set the tone for the evening. Which was not good. Civil, but uncomfortable. And rather negative.

Then came Thursday.

I had listed 6 large bags of plastic packing peanuts late Wednesday on that Ecycle website I mentioned, and within seconds, a woman in Poughkeepsie had claimed them. I awoke yesterday to 20+ emails from other people wanting them. I started responding to the emails that they were gone, when it occurred to me that I should make sure this woman was going to take all of them before I discarded these offers, so I called her. I had offered in the ad to deliver, so she asked me to bring them to Pok at 3 that afternoon.

I screwed up.

Somehow, I had it stuck in my mind that "today" was Wednesday, not Thursday. I don't know why, but I've been doing that a lot lately. I was supposed to have lunch with Piper on Thursday, but, thinking it was Wednesday, I accidentally stood him up.

I didn't shower before leaving the house, and I was wearing "second-wearing" clothes, because I wanted to go to the exercise machines on the way to deliver the peanuts. Which I did. I worked the machines from 1 'til 2, and delivered the peanuts to Spackenkill Road at 3. The woman had a lip at the end of her driveway, and when I pulled in, and again when I pulled out, I scraped bottom badly (that low clearance on the van). Which sometimes isn't serious, but I got partway up Spackenkill, heading out on the almost-an-hour drive home, when a) the guy on the radio mention that today was Thursday (WHAT!!??), and b) the "check engine" light went on.

I had committed to go to the Third Thursday dinner, because Roman had to work that night, and he had given me the coupons. It's now about 3:30. I'd get home at 4:30ish, and have to leave at 5:15ish to come back to Pok for the dinner, and that's a lot of driving on a questionable van. I don't know what I may have torn loose. I couldn't like hang out at the mall and then go to dinner, because I stank, and I had no makeup on. I could either get the van looked at, or get me cleaned up, but not both. It was all suddenly too much for me to handle. I was ready to cry. I called Roman, who lives only about 10 minutes from where I was.

He was wonderful. We looked under the van. The only thing we saw was that it's dripping transmission fluid again. Everything else looked ok. He said it was probably ok to drive, but I should get it checked. And I could shower at his place and just chill until time to go to the dinner. I have an overnight case there, so it worked out. (He said my clothes didn't smell. Thank goodness I wear loose stuff.)

There were only three of us at the dinner. Tom and I were the first to arrive, and we decided that if no one else showed up, we'd cut out and go to Gentleman Jim's for dinner instead, and then we could play trivia after. But then another woman showed up, and she had no interest in Gentleman Jim's.

This woman happens to be Roman's financial advisor. And I am beginning to think ALL money management people are ditzy. We were looking at the placemats, and I remarked that I was born in the year of the monkey, and Tom said something about astrology, and she asked him what his birthdate was, and he told her, and said, "You know, that's the second time you've asked me that. We had this same conversation last time I saw you." She didn't remember, but she almost immediately turned to me and asked if I was married (this woman is famous for non sequiturs). I said "No, why do you ask", and she replied that that's why she didn't want to go to GJ's, because she wanted to get home to her husband.

I started laughing, and said "You've also asked me that before." The last time I had seen her, she had turned to Roman and me, and had said "My husband wants to know if you two are married." That was back when Roman was courting me big time, and it was obvious to everyone at the table that something big was going on. And I remember it especially because she, as his financial advisor, should have known his marital status, so it struck me as odd. Her response was "Oh, no. I would NEVER have asked if you and [Roman] were married, because I know [Roman] has a girlfriend, [so-and-so]. I know her because her ex-husband goes to my church. If I asked, it was just a joke."

I had a flash of anger. I said "Yes, but it wasn't a joke. Sorry, but I'm feeling a bit bitter right now. I wish you had told me about her then." She said "Oh, you do know about her?" (When you think about what she'd just said, that's a really dumb question....) I said "Yes, now I do, but I didn't know soon enough. He misled me." She asked "Does she know about you?", and I said "No, and that's so unfair, because now that I know, I got mean, and she's not, she's all sweetness and light, and he's comparing us, and that's so unfair." She sympathized. Then she said "Someone should tell her. She should know!" and she looked like she was the one to do it, and I suddenly realized that I had forgotten that this was a total ditz I was talking to. She's about the fourth person to tell me that Roman has a girlfriend, but she's the first to scare me.

I had gone too far. I asked her and Tom to please not say anything to anyone - but - she's a ditz. Sometimes I guess I am, too. My only consolation is that she has no contact with the woman, so her blathering to her is unlikely. Her blathering to or scolding Roman is a distinct possibility, however. On the other hand, she SAW us together at that dinner. She KNEW THEN that Roman and I were "involved". He walked up to me and kissed me right in front of her once. So this shouldn't be news to her. What the hell was in her mind then? What was in her mind last night, when she informed me Roman had a girlfriend named xxx? Mensa considered Roman and me a couple, so her announcing at a Mensa function that he had a girlfriend (by name, even) was very embarrassing to me. The woman is a ditz.

I am stupid. I am sick. I am a spurned woman. I am human. I know that if xxx did find out about me, and if Roman thought I was in any way responsible for her finding out, it would destroy the last shreds of our already-tattered friendship, and I don't want to lose that. Even if she throws him out (and I doubt that she cares for him enough to get angry, certainly not enough to throw out her 'faithful' servant, he's just too useful) if he thought I was responsible he wouldn't turn to me, so there's no advantage to me.

No matter what else stops, I never want to stop seeing his smile.

So, anyway, after dinner I went to trivia with Tom. He asked me if I'd like to go next Thursday, too. I said yes. There's a Mensa group in NYC who are always near the top of the national ranking, and we're considering a trip to the city to meet them and see them in action some summer Thursday. Tom is the subject of a lot of gossip in the local group, because he's been married like five times, and he's a bit of a hound. He's about 12 years younger than I, in love with a woman who shares his interest in hiking, and I don't get "hound" vibes from him at all, which is refreshing. We're trivia buddies, and I like him. He's fun.

So, today, bright and early, I took the van to my favorite garage. Unfortunately, it's also everybody else's favorite, too. The owner told me I could bring it in on Monday, but I have a volunteer meeting on Monday that I can't reschedule. The next available time is 8 am, Friday of next week, so I agreed to that. Not good.

Then I stopped by Piper's office because I just got a notice from the state that they were fining me $50 because my last business sales tax return was late. The Angel did mail the forms, but I don't know when. Neither Piper nor The Angel were there, but Vinnie was, so Vinnie and I went to lunch. Man, he can talk!
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Much later (6:30 pm):
While writing the above, I realized I could rent a wreck, which happens to be right next door to the garage. I called the garage, and the Monday slot is still available. I tried to call the car rental place, but they weren't in the book, so I ran down there and reserved a car for tomorrow. I can drop off the van at the garage tomorrow and pick up the rental, and I'm all set for Monday's meeting. (The car rental place wasn't in the book because they changed their name.)

Then I went and did a round on the exercise machines, plus 25 fast situps, and got thrown out because they were closing. They close early on Friday.

When I got home, there was a message on the tape from Roman, asking how the van was (wasn't that sweet of him?), and a message from the Hunk saying he'd be here Monday to finish the chimney work. I called Roman right back, but I guess he has already gone over to xxx's house - for the weekend, like every weekend, damn him. I left a long message. I probably won't hear from him again until Tuesday, if then.

Tomorrow is filling up. I'm going to a monster indoor flea market at the fair grounds, then I have to pick up the rental and drop off the van at 3 pm, then meet the roofer here at 4 to sign the contract. Then I'll sit here alone with PBS on Saturday night. (Fishkill would like to see me again, but he has a dance recital (per salsa lessons) on Sunday, and will be rehearsing, or I'd have invited him to share some Saturday time.)

And --- that's what I've been up to.

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