Saturday, May 21, 2005

I've been helped

Do you remember in grade school, about the time everyone was wearing jams and saying "rad," that there was a little saying about "being helped?" As in, "My dad caught me smoking Granny's Salem 100's and now I'm so totally helped!"

Part of this is fun. People come to visit me. They bring me chocolate. They tell me news of the outside world, and their talking mercifully drowns out the sound of my croaking foot vacuum. I love my friends.

Some of this is not so fun, and this is the only place I can vent my ingratitude and surliness and frustration.

A.S. is the sweetest in the world. This morning, he made me French toast when he didn't even want any. When I asked for milk, he asked "short glass or talll glass?" He also still says he loves me, even though I've put on about 7 lbs. and got maple syrup on my neck from eating lying down.

And then he helped me.

He reorganized my living room, putting things in what he thinks are their proper places. I have a feeling that part of this is because his mother had her first visit to my apartment yesterday, and as she wandered from room to room looking at things (while I lay in bed wondering what the hell my living room looked like after a month of crutches and bedrest and no thorough cleaning) and said "You have a lot of STUFF in here." And A.S. tells me I need to sort through the two foot pile of magazines by the sofa, and threw away all my gift bags and brought in my paperwork to sort through and moved my computer printer to a dark and inaccessible corner of the living room and put THINGS in the little dovecote cubbies of my fold down desk (I have a SYSTEM), and I lay here in my bed and thought, "THIS IS MY APARTMENT AND MY MAGAZINES AND MY GODDAMNED COMPUTER PRINTER AND I PAY RENT HERE, BUDDY!" But out loud I said, "Thank you, my angel pie. That was so thoughtful. When you have a moment, will you please replace the printer to its former location?" And he said, "But you never use it!" And I said, "Nevertheless." And he said, "But it's the first thing people see when they walk in!" And I said, "Still." And he said all suspicious, "When was the last time you used it?" And I said, "I can't remember, but it's because it's out of ink." And he said, all superior, "We'll put it back when you get some more ink."

Excuse me? We? WE?

So I said, trying to keep the frost from my voice and heart, "Angel lambkin, please just put it back. You don't have to do it right now or even today (yeah right, it BETTER be today). But. I. Really. Want. You. To. Put. It. Back." I think I hurt his feelings.

So between him moving my shit and my mother refolding my underpants, I've been HELPED. I'm on the edge here, people.

3 comments:

Vivian to Some said...

Ah Jemima! I quit checking your blog cuz you didn't write in like forever. But now you're back! Without Woo and very nearly a foot. Wtf? I can't seem to find The Post in which you explain what happened. I have to say I'm in shock (especially since you threaten me with an arse kicking from - your bed?) but I'm glad you're back bcuz I love your writing!

Jemima said...

Hmm, thought I'd posted something about The Accident earlier, but it's all been one big Percoset haze since the middle of April.

Elysia said...

I'm glad I'm not the only person who feels like that about being "helped".... funny how it makes you fight with yourself - am I being selfish? Am I right to hate this? You love the people, but you hate the "help". Just use it as impetus to GET BETTER QUICK!!!!!