sk.everythingseventual-第52章
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o into Toones Xpress one Friday after my movie was over (I always go to the show on Friday afternoons; even if there's nothing I really want to see; because that's when the cleaners e); just killing time inside because it was rainy and that squashed going to the park; and while I was looking at the new releases; this kid asks a clerk about the new Weezer CD。 The clerk tells him it won't be in for another ten days or so; but I'd had it since the Friday before。
Fringe benefits; like I say。
If I write down 'sport shirt' on the DAYBOARD; there it is when I get back to the house on Friday night; always in one of the nice earth…tone colors I like。 If I write down 'new jeans' or 'chinos;' I get those。 All stuff from The Gap; which is where I'd go myself; if I had to do stuff like that。 If I want a certain kind of after…shave lotion or cologne; I write the name on DINKY'S DAYBOARD and it's on the bathroom counter when I get home。 I don't date; but I'm a fool for cologne。 Go figure。
Here's something you'll laugh at; I bet。 Once I wrote down 'Rembrandt Painting' on the DAYBOARD。 Then I spent the afternoon at the movies and walking in the park; watching people making out and dogs catching Frisbees; thinking how eventual it would be if the cleaners actually brought me my own fucking Rembrandt。 Think of it; a genuine Old Master on the wall of a house in the Sunset Knoll section of Columbia City。 How eventual would that be?
And it happened; in a manner of speaking。 My Rembrandt was hung on the living room wall when I got home; over the sofa where the velvet clowns used to be。 My heart was beating about two hundred a minute as I walked across the room toward it。 When I got closer; I saw it was just a copy 。 。 。 you know; a reproduction。 I was disappointed; but not very。 I mean; it was a Rembrandt。 Just not an original Rembrandt。
Another time; I wrote 'Autographed Photo of Nicole Kidman' on the DAYBOARD。 I think she's the best…looking actress alive; she just gets me on so much。 And when I got home that day; there was a publicity still of her on the fridge; held there by a couple of those little vegetable magnets。 She was on her Moulin Rouge swing。 And that time it was the real deal。 I know because of the way it was signed: 'To Dinky Earnshaw; with love & kisses from Nicole。'
Oh; baby。 Oh; honey。
Tell you something; my friend…if I worked hard and really wanted it; there might be a real Rembrandt on my wall someday。 Sure。 In a job like this; there is nowhere to go but up。 In a way; that's the scary part。
IV
I never have to make grocery lists。 The cleaners know what I like…Stouffer's frozen dinners; especially that boil…in…the…bag stuff they call creamed chipped beef and Ma had always called shit on a shingle; frozen strawberries; whole milk; pre…formed hamburger patties that you just have to slap in a hot frying pan (I hate playing with raw meat); Dole puddings; the ones that e in plastic cups (bad for my plexion but I love em); ordinary food like that。 If I want something special; I write it down on DINKY'S DAYBOARD。
Once I asked for a homemade apple pie; specifically not from the supermarket; and when I came back that night around the time it was getting dark; my pie was in the fridge with the rest of the week's groceries。 Only it wasn't wrapped up; it was just sitting there on a blue plate。 That's how I knew it was homemade。 I was a little hesitant about eating it at first; not knowing where it came from and all; and then I decided I was being stupid。 A person doesn't really know where supermarket food es from; not really。 I mean; we assume it's okay because it's wrapped up or in a can or 'double…sealed for your protection;' but anyone could have been handling it with dirty fingers before it was double…sealed; or sneezing great big whoops of booger…breath on it; or even wiping their asses with it。 I don't mean to gross you out; but it's true; isn't it? The world is full of strangers; and a lot of them are 'up to no good。' I have had personal experience of this; believe me。
Anyway; I tried the pie and it was delicious。 I ate half of it Friday night and the rest on Saturday morning; while I was running the numbers in Cheyenne; Wyoming。 Most of Saturday night I spent on the toilet; shitting my guts out from all those apples; I guess; but I didn't care。 The pie was worth it。 'Like mother used to make' is what people say; but it can't be my mother they say it about。 My Ma couldn't fry Spam。
V
I never have to write down underwear on the DAYBOARD。 Every five weeks or so the old drawers disappear and there are brand…new Hanes Jockey…shorts in my bureau; four three…packs still in their plastic bags。 Double…sealed for my protection; ha…ha。 Toilet…paper; laundry soap; dishwasher soap; I never have to write any of that shit down。 It just appears。
Very eventual; don't you think?
VI
I have never seen the cleaners; any more than I have ever seen the guy (or maybe it's a gal) who delivers my seventy bucks every Thursday during As the World Turns。 I never want to see them; either。 I don't need to; for one thing。 For another; yes; okay; I'm afraid of them。 Just like I was afraid of Mr。 Sharpton in his big gray Mercedes on the night I went out to meet him。 So sue me。
I don't eat lunch in my house on Fridays。 I watch As the World Turns; then jump in my car and drive into town。 I get a burger at Mickey D's; then go to a movie; then to the park if the weather is good。 I like the park。 It's a good place to think; and these days I've got an awful lot to think about。
If the weather is bad; I go to the mall。 Now that the days are beginning to shorten; I'm thinking about taking up bowling again。 It'd be something to do on Friday afternoons; at least。 I used to go now and then with Pug。
I sort of miss Pug。 I wish I could call him; just shoot the shit; tell him some of the stuff that's been going on。 Like about that guy Neff; for instance。
Oh; well; spit in the ocean and see if it es back。
While I'm away; the cleaners are doing my house from wall to wall and top to bottom…wash the dishes (although I'm pretty good about that myself); wash the floors; wash the dirty clothes; change the sheets; put out fresh towels; restock the fridge; get any of the incidentals that are written on the DAYBOARD。 It's like living in a hotel with the world's most efficient (not to mention eventual) maid service。
The one place they don't mess around with much is the study off the dining room。 I keep that room fairly dark; the shades always pulled; and they have never raised them to let in so much as a crack of daylight; like they do in the rest of the house。 It never smells of Lemon Pledge in there; either; although every other room just about reeks of it on Friday nights。 Sometimes it's so bad I have these sneezing fits。 It's not an allergy; more like a nasal protest…demonstration。
Someone vacuums the floor in there; and they empty the waste…paper basket; but no one has ever moved any of the papers that I keep on the desk; no matter how cluttered…up and junky…looking they are。 Once I put a little piece of tape over where the drawer above the knee…hole opens; but it was still there; unbroken; when I got back home that night。 I don't keep anything top secret in that drawer; you understand; I just wanted to know。
Also; if the puter and modem are on when I leave; they're still on when I e back; the VDT showing one of the screen…saver programs (usually the one of the people doing stuff behind their blinds in this high…rise building; because that's my favorite)。 If my stuff was off when I left; it's off when I e back。 They don't mess around in Dinky's study。
Maybe the cleaners are a little afraid of me; too。
VII
I got the call that changed my life just when I thought the bination of Ma and delivering for Pizza Roma was going to drive me crazy。 I know how melodramatic that sounds; but in this case; it's true。 The call came on my night off。 Ma was out with her girlfriends; playing Bingo at the Reservation; all of them smoking up a storm and no doubt laughing every time the caller pulled B…12 out of the hopper and said; 'All rig