RESIDUE OR RESIDENT

Hello today.  Got a story you may want to hear. Goes like this.

She has been not sleeping very well for many months now, always tossing turning, making frequent visits to the washroom, until getting out of bed seems to be the only option, eating and having a coffee, then maybe sleep.

Actually this no sleep dilemma, happens to her every year, around the same time.

  1. This means she has completed a written  project.
  2. It’s time is to get rid of the finished assignment.
  3. Don’t stop until you do.

Turns out these endless hours of searching effortlessly she could have been sleeping.

Also during this wasted resting time, examining any possibilities to get noticed, she lends a hand out to her friend. She never says no.   Turns out, she ends up washing and painting the inside of an apartment. A very good challenge for her. Healthy a choice as well. She would get to move and use muscles she very rarely uses, this, never entered her mind though. {Hey I can do anything} the only voice in her head said.

That same inside voice also said when she arrived at this {I’ll help you project} this morning is, {holy sack it’s big, you’re going to wash all this? snicker  snicker. YES I WILL. Then from nowhere came big laughter.

“Okay, what’s the big joke.” He said. She laughed more but at his question. which he then said. “What the fuck are you laughing at?” He starts laughing looking around causing her to bellow more causing her own knees to buckle, she held on to the railing doing her best to tell him to,

  1. Stop asking me questions.
  2. Stop looking around.
  3. Stop there is nothing to see.

Seconds passed emptying all sound. Then she said. “I was laughing at an argument inside my head.”  He asked her if she won or lost. “We’ll find out.”  As they upped the stair-case her enlarged eye-balls had its fill of dirt and the places the dirty is situated. This surprised her, really shocked her more though, {how does it get this dirty?}  But when the door to enter the home opened, even before stepping over the threshold she coughed covering her mouth, then quickly covered the nose as well.  “Holy. Cigarette smoke. Freaking gross. What the crap! Did they smoke five packs a day?” “We can open the windows.” Was all he said.

At the end of the day twelve hard-working hours were put in by both of them, but he commended her work, “Wow.” He looked around. “You did good.” He nods still scanning every inch. “Cool. Are you hungry?”  Pleasingly yes, she smiled at him at her work, at her thought. She can’t wait to get home to work on getting out there, getting noticed, getting someone to like her movie about Frank Domino. “Well it’s not about him, he is in it though. And people are going to like Frank.”  Plus, she wrote a spinoff it. Room 327. she continues pounding on the keys. [Who will buy my screenplays].[Where can I]. All night.

Morning came fast. “Morning? So fast.” Yes, she sees the time. Jumping into action, more work more cleaning. “I can do it. Feels good to work.” That thought seemed like a good thought this morning and not so well now.  {After the unwelcome slap of smoke in the face, then minutes pass, then it is your body talking to you, and not your mind. You work thinking things like.} “Wow, my legs hurt. hehehe. Holy stiff arms. giggle giggle. Wow my hands are stiff.  Oh no that hole in my back hurt?

“Hey!” She calls out to him. “Defiantly tomorrow, logical precautions will be taken on what I can do. What I can’t do and how I feel.”  laughter from her filled the whole place and she loved it.  Her mind is busy cleaning, listen to music or singing with the head-phones, not wasting endless hours of sleeping time, tearing the web apart searching on ways to get her foot in the door on the way in.  She worked hard for her friend washing, scrubbing giving her all and happy. Actually having fun and believe it or not relaxing!, not a worried thought in her head.

“Time.” He said. “already?” She said. “What time is it?” She said. “Are you hungry?”, that was all he had to say. As she tidies up all her cleaning items she thinks carefully as to how she feels right now. “Didn’t hurt that much today and didn’t last long anyway, so maybe tomorrow will be the same.”   “What.” He says, “nothing, just saying I feel good not bad at all. Maybe tomorrow it will be the same.”  He nods, “that’s cool, sweet.” He says nothing more. They eat saying bye for the night see you tomorrow.

Sure she is tired, but she is home where things do not need cleaning or washing. She is home to the quite, where her mind will take control of any sleep reminders that might come knocking.  She will eat and stream with frequent visits to the washroom ending with some coffee until passing out takes her down.  Then before you know it, morning.  A hot day. Crazy sun. It has been cool and rainy the last while. And bam, just like that, a hot day. Sweet. Not a thought more.

Lots of things washed lots of things repainted. The inside of the apartment is looking newly beautiful, but still after every inch of the home being washed and painted all that could be smelled is still cigarette smoke!  None the less. They are both proud of what has been accomplished up until now. And now, on this hot day, it is time to wash the Hall-way!

“Aw man. I forgot about this out here.,  frig, gross. How can people be so dirty?”  “I will do it if you want.” Came the voice from the one bed-room. Then he came out wiping his hands watching her.  “No I was just saying.” She said.  He said nothing just listened to her.   “No, no It’s all good. I just didn’t think about out there.”   “Are you sure? I will do it.”   “Seriously I’m fine, I just forgot and talked out loud.”  She giggled and he just went back to his work.  So time passes and the heat with the lack of any air combined with scrubbing causes a sweat and a drainage of fluids from the body, but we strive forth praying for the end. Of cleaning.

Then her thoughts are interrupted, she can hear the door on the third floor open. “The floors are wet!” she calls out. She can hear the man up-stairs complain he must put his shoes on.   Now he is coming down around to where she is, carrying a basket of laundry, then stopping to say.

  1. “This is not my dirt.
  2. I did not do this.
  3. My dirt is up-stairs.
  4. This is their dirt.”        Then off he went, down two more flight mumbling to himself.

She said nothing in return. How could she? What would or could she have said?

  1. How stupid can you be?
  2. How do you get to your door without the aid of these steps.
  3. Idiot. French.

Then her thoughts are again interrupted again as he turns to take the last casing of stair, he says. “I’ll go around to get back up, don’t worry about it.”

She laughs out wondering to her self.  “How is he going to do that when there’s a middle set of steps, that side too. Holy, what an odd fellow.”    She slowly lost all thoughts and cleaned with not a care in the world for the next half hour.  Then she turned to the foot-steps coming up from basement think the guy is, coming back this way after all.  But it is not. It is the nice old lady that lives down there. “Oh hello.” She said to a lady.

Who smiled back,  “you look  tired.”    “What? Tired? No.”

This statement is the cause, this story, came to life.  “You look tired.”

Her mind had to act fast so her eyes rolled side to side fast, saying quickly.

“No I’m hot, I’m pooped. I’m pooped out. There’s no air in here.”

TRUE EVENTS she is babbling on and on while this old lady is holding this large parcel

  • Here she is washing the Hall-way walls.
  • The steps
  • The floor leading to the front door of this apartment.
  • The whole middle area.
  • Every inch of the place needs washed and painted.
  • All she can smell is cigarette smoke.
  • I’m not tired.
  • There’s no air, is so hot in here.

She refused to agree to being tired, doing her best to convince this woman still standing there watching into the {not tired girls} face, listening to all this rambling. Then said, “well here, lets open the door for you then.”

Oh my the breeze felt glorious when the lady opened the big glass door. The cool wind came wiping all around my sweat dampened body. “Oh my God that feels so good.”

“Well leave it opened.” She replied.  So nice this little aged woman pleasing me. Then.

“Oh no that must be heavy.”   The cleaning girl looked at the package the old lady is still holding and doing the best with one arm, wedging it between the arch-way.

That is when her mind kicked in. Maybe it was all her brain needed-fresh air.

“Here I will do that. Thank-you for helping, thanks for listening to me. I’m sorry.”

The tiny lady nodded, leaving on her way while the {not tired girl laughed}.

The next day they arrived, she choose not to complain just work as best she can.  It was not long she is busy in thought while scraping some black stuff off her one hand. Then she hears a voice, but, not soon enough, to hear every word spoken, causing her to look up seeing a stranger watching down at her actions. Where in turn she asked. “What? Did you say. Residue or Residents? pardon me?” IMG_0354.JPG

 

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