‘Lo. I’m back with the fifth and final (I think) installment of Truly, Madly, Deeply: JAZZ HANDS–er, a tale of a grrl and her ape. Before I start, though, I have to regale you with a funny/cringe-worthy anecdote about my mother. She’s here visiting for a month and a half. She called two days before she came (right as I was about to clean for her visit!) and asked me many questions about the ape. I was cautiously optimistic at the tone she took, but I knew the real test would be when she arrived. Of course, one of the first things she wanted to talk about was the ape. After I answered her questions for roughly half an hour, she said, “Dad told me I shouldn’t tell you this, but–” Pro tip: If you want to tell someone something, do not start out with, “So-and-so told me not to tell you.” She then proceeded to tell me how, you know, she’s been praying for me (I know). Well, she usually prays that my relationship with God would be healed (shudder), but in the past few months, she’s been asking Him to bring me a good man.
Inside, I’m laughing, but also rolling my eyes. I said, “Why did Dad tell you not to tell me that?”, thinking, “He knows I do the opposite of what you say”, or, “‘Coz you sound a leeeetle bit crazy right now!” She said, “He knows that you’ve been hurt in your past affairs, well, you know what I mean–“. I interjected, “Relationships.” She went on as if she hadn’t heard me, “And he doesn’t want you to get hurt again. He’s very protective of you in that way.” That was the cringe-worthy part. I shrugged it off, but I also felt a flash of pure anger. Protective of me? What the fuck is that shit? Still, I said in my head, “A good man is better than God, apparently!” and moved the conversation to another topic. This is huge because even a year ago, I would have gotten into it with her over her words. Now, I can just say, “Whatever, Mom,” and go about my merry way. And, as friends pointed out, if she thinks she had a hand in me meeting the ape, she’ll be more for the relationship. And as another friend said, “Let her nag God. At least she’s leaving you alone!”
All right. Back to my narrative. When we last left the titular couple, they were climbing Mount Everest, swimming in the Amazon, and–oh, all right. They were at taiji and meeting with the grrl’s best friend for dinner. Which went swimmingly. We closed down the Thai restaurant, causing the manager to push a vacuum noisily past us as a hint to get the fuck out.
Then, Friday. Idle’s last full day here. We planned on getting Indian food (his favorite) and visiting the Snoopy statues around St. Paul. We didn’t manage the latter, but we did do the former. My absolute favorite Indian restaurant got raided and closed years ago. Three others have come and gone, but couldn’t hold a candle. The one to which I took Idle was very good, though–except for one thing. It was ninety degrees out that day, and the restaurant didn’t have air, for whatever reason. It was brutal, especially since both of us do not like the heat at all. Sometime in the evening, I started saying, “It’s not so hot. It’s not bad at all!” Idle looked at me and kindly said, “You’re hallucinating, honey.” Apparently, part of being dehydrated is entertaining delusions. I didn’t care ‘coz at least I didn’t feel as if my brains were being scrambled in preparation for the zombie apocalypse.