Thursday

Today my building manager yelled at me from across the street. Upon closer inspection she apologized and said, "I didn't recognize you in that hat! I'm so sorry! I wouldn't yell at my favorite tenant!"

She introduced me to her friend. Her friend asked fretfully if I was "good with a computer." She has great-grandchildren. I said, "Yes, I am okay at it." She asked me if I could help her with a Craigslist posting for a weekend garage sale she was planning. I said, "Sure, let me put my groceries away. My ice cream is melting."

To which my manager said, "How do you eat ice cream and keep your figure like that!"

I said, "I ride my bike everywhere."

Kicking open my door, I regretted my compliance. After all, I had a fresh bottle of Charles Shaw to attend to. But I put my groceries away and dutifully returned, the little old chihuahua barking lazily at me from the porch swing. The friend invited me inside, apologized for the mess, and warned me that the computer was really slow. I had suspected as much.

I can't remember the last time I heard a dial up connection.

The issue was, naturally, easy to attend to, and I altered her Craigslist ad to reflect the date and time of the yard sale. She was tremendously pleased, staring down at me with blue-tinted wide glasses that I would have loved to find at Saint Vincent's for a buck.

She said, "What did you say about a bike?"

"Oh, just that I ride my bike everywhere." I enunciated every word.

"My son owns a bike shop down on Melrose if you ever need anything, just ask me, you've been so helpful."

Score.

She told my manager what a wonderful person I am, how I fixed everything so quickly, what a pleasant young woman I am. I skipped down the steps with an affected girlishness, shouldered my backpack, and issued a cheerful "See ya!" to which both older women waved and said, "Thank you so much Liz, you're precious."

I mean, if the world is going to constantly mistake me for a child, I might as well milk it for all it's worth.

And here is - finally - my first recording. Vocals only. If you want to write music for me, I'd be more than grateful.

Brad & Angelina - Amalthea