Are very nice old people. Two sisters, 82 (Dorothy) and 65 (Shirley), who live with their brother whose in his 80s (no idea?). Dorothy, is one of those cool old people. You know the ones that are active, friendly and can still can hold relavent conversations without talking for too long or wandering off topic. But above all, she kind of just doesn’t give a hoot one way or another. She’s all about doing whatever you want (I think it’s because she’s been around for awhile).
Shirley, the 65 year old is quite the opposite. She has never been married, is a highly opinionated woman who is quite nosy, and has a tendency to barks her words at you. She rarely gives you a chance to respond to anything she says and although she says nice things, they come off insulting. Truly a remarkable talent. And then there is the 80+ year old man, who is like every other dude on this planet. He has his space, he has his garden and could care less what his crazy sisters, neighbors or anyone else is doing.
Since I moved into my place about 7 months ago, Dorothy has been trying to get my husband and I to come over for tea and cookies, and stops us at least once a week to have a chat with us. Shirley on the other hand, likes to tell me what to do (I should take the dog for a walk) or randomly gives me her unhelpful opinions (my heels are too high). On the other hand, she does like to tell my husband how nice he is and helpful he is ;).
My husband talks to them much more than I ever do and let it slip that he was taking a trip to Texas and leaving me here. Since then, the ladies have made it their mission to “look after me” while he’s gone. In fact, they stopped us several times before my husband left, to help us count the days until he left, to give me their phone number and to reassure me that I could come to them day or night if I need anything–anything at all.
Oh yes, that’s right my husband just left me here with two old ladies next door that want to be my friend and take care of me. Let the craziness commence.
I worked an ungodly amount of hours last week, my dog got sick and I just started a new class that is literally sucking the soul from my body. Needless to say, I was barely around during the week. The weekend, however, is a different story.
Saturday evening we had thunderstorms for most of the night. I sat upstairs on my big comfy conch, painted my toenails blue and watched movies I’ve already seen a thousand times- a nice way to turn off my brain. While I was doing this, my elderly neighbors were pounding on my door (which I didn’t hear because there’s a thunderstorm going on) and after I didn’t answer they dropped a note in my mail slot, which I found about 15mins later.
The note said something like (and I’m paraphrasing their elderly pleasantries and politeness and guessing a bit since it is old people handwriting) “if you and/or your dog are scared of the storm, you can hang out at our house” – they signed the note Love Dorothy, Shirley, and Lucy (their dog) and gave me their phone number again. I called them to reassure them that my dog (who was snoring louder than the thunder storms) and I were just fine and I was OK with the storms outside.
On Sunday, as a rule, I was wearing sweats, an old shirt and my hair tied up on top of my head in a less than attractive way. And because it is Sunday, I’m studying and cleaning and when I get tired of either one, I nap (no judgement, there are scientific studies that say napping is good for you). Around noon, I am blissfully napping away in my sweats after trying to digest the gazillions pages of studying I had just done, when my nice old ladies from next door started to bang on my door, yet again. For old ladies, they sure know how to beat down a door.
Of course I open the door in all my just woken up awesomeness hoping to persuade them to not ask me anything or want me to do anything. It’s Dorothy, she wants to have a tea, coffee, and/or a drink with me. I couldn’t say no after they had been so nice lately, so I changed into something more reasonable and meet them next door.
Truth be told, I have ALWAYS wanted to see what was in their house. Call it what you will, but I love to see what people have in their homes, especially old people. They have old stuff, with old stories. Her house, like all five of the town homes we were part of, is pretty much the same layout as my house. Their door was open and Dorothy wanted me to walk back to the kitchen. Shirley was there, rushing around in a huff and getting ready to leave, she barked a few personal questions at me, didn’t really stop to hear the answers and then left. She was going to the store to pick up the wine. Apparently, this a regular thing at their house, whether it’s wine or beer, they’re boozing it up come afternoon/evening time.
Dorothy must have asked me about ten times if I wanted tea, if I was sure I wanted tea, if I wanted tea, if I was sure I wanted tea….you get the idea. After answering yes to the same questions a few times, she makes me tea. Then she tried to get me to eat chocolate chip cookies, which I politely refused since I really can’t have sugar (due to migraines). She then she offered to let me take some home for my dog. Let me repeat that, take home chocolate chip cookies for my dog…chocolate being the key phrase here. You know that stuff that’s poisonous to dogs. I declined the cookie invitation again, stating my dog didn’t eat that kind of stuff. She looked truly shocked and a little upset that he didn’t eat chocolate chip cookies but then I quickly added he had plenty of his own toys and treats. She accepted that and had me move to her living (sitting) room.
The best way to describe her living room is: random. A lot of random decorations, random furniture, random colors and random pictures. The couches were covered and the chairs worn and comfy. She told me to sit in a chair while she sat on the couch. We talked about the neighbors a bit , who they were and how often they came by for tea and how Dorothy, Shirley and her brother all ended up together in a house. She asked about my husband a bit, and then stated with a bit of admiration, “Oh he is really in shape and works out a lot. Doesn’t he? We see him walking around without a shirt.” I couldn’t help but laugh. The old ladies were ogling my hottie husband! Well, I couldn’t fault their excellent taste and let her go on a bit about it.
Towards the end of my visit, she told me she couldn’t hear well since she hadn’t put in her hearing aid. That made sense. I had said a few things to her and she never actually responded and then would ask me something I had already answered. And she would talk while I was talking. I just chalked it up to being old? But I’m glad she waited until we were done talking before she told me she didn’t have her hearing aid in.
I was leaving when Shirley came back. Here I was thinking, I have survived “the visit” to the old people’s house.
Ummm…not so fast though! Let’s fast forward to about 4:30pm when my husband’s friend comes over to pick up paperwork for the car my husband just sold him. I’ve known the guy for awhile, we chatted and caught up while he filled out paperwork. I walk him to the door and as I open it to see him out, I see Shirley, wandering around outside. She has stopped to stare at us, clearly not liking the look of man coming out of may house while my husband is away, a black man no less! I rolled my eyes a bit and ignored her until she yelled from her house that she could see the car paperwork in my hands, so then I felt obliged to tell her that my husband sold a car to our friend. At this point, it was just awkward and the lady wouldn’t stop staring. I shook my head, said goodbye to my friend, and shut the door.
I have now have 3 days until my husband gets back and I have a sneaking suspicion that Shirley will be mentioning to him that I had a male visitor….
Marie's Meanderings 