did, he was
not only my friend, but a paid employee. Janey, on the other hand,
was practically in tears. “Janey, it’s only hair for goodness
sakes. It will grow back.”
“But it’s so short! And it covers your face. I can't
see anything but your sunglasses anymore!”
Obviously my goal had been reached. I gave myself a
mental pat on the back for a job well done. “It’s easier to take
care of now,” I soothed. “What’s the use of long hair when I always
kept it pulled back or pinned up?”
“Oh my god! You cut off your nails, too?” Janey
wailed. The way she was carrying on, you’d think I hacked the heads
off the pirate bears collection.
I couldn’t resist teasing her. “It’s a good thing you
can't see the skull and crossbones tattoo over my right ass cheek.
I thought I might as well go all out on the make-over.”
Ken snorted his coffee. At least, that's my best
guess at what the muffled sound was. Janey was silent. It started
as a soft giggle, then Janey laughed, and the stress of the room
dropped dramatically.
In a quieter, but determined voice, she asked, “What
happened? You love your nails. You love your long hair.”
Ah, the downside of a long-lasting friendship is
eventually your friends know you exceptionally well. I gave an
edited version of last night's disturbance, and I told Janey I
didn't feel comfortable with my face exposed. Janey started to cry
and got all clingy. Silly limpet.
Eventually, Janey sniffled herself into a relative
calm and told me the cut looked very nice and she was sorry she'd
gotten all upset. Uh huh... I amended her description to silly
lying limpet, but let it go. She was trying to be supportive.
Ken made a nice meal of spaghetti and French bread,
and we broached the subject of newly revised assistant hours. Ken
agreed I didn't need him at the house twenty-four hours a day
anymore. I was comfortable getting around, and I now had Red for
company and support. Over dinner, we devised a new schedule,
reducing his availability: nine in the morning to six at night,
five nights a week. He still had a room at the house, but now had
weekends off to correspond with Janey's schedule. It was agreed
they would play (aka: have crazy monkey sex) at Janey's place where
they would have privacy and I wouldn't be subjected to Janey's
tears if he were having problems performing his studly duties. That
earned a threat to have my bed short-sheeted next laundry day.
Yeah, whatever.
Feeling overfull with pasta and garlic bread, we all
sat on the couch for movie night. Movie night at my house was a
random evening where the sound is turned off on the TV. Janey and
Ken take turns making up dialog and strange voices to describe the
action. Tonight was a B-Movie spaghetti western (not an accidental
choice considering dinner). Ken was cracking us all up by trying to
find different lines to describe every time Clint Eastwood squinted
into the camera. Eye actions ranged from a fierce “I wanna kill
something” squint, to an evil “I'm gonna bust yer ass” squint, to a
“Hey baby, yer kinda sexy—wanna screw up against a water tower?”
squint.
After dinner, I sat at the table with a slice of
cheesecake and a mug of Seattle's Best coffee. Red had fallen
asleep during the movie but was awake now, and chewing on a furry
bone. The toy box he pulled it from was Janey's idea; teach a dog
these are the things you can play with.
I was contemplating if I wanted to try taking dance
lessons at one of the studios in the area in an effort to ignore
the activity on the couch. My patience finally ran out after about
thirty minutes of whispered innuendos and stolen, lingering kisses.
Yep, I was jealous, but sheesh, I was trying to drink my coffee and
carry on a conversation with myself.
“Ken, can you drag my friend out of here? By the hair
if necessary. You two are not as quiet as you think you are,” I
informed them. “I heard a zipper being
not only my friend, but a paid employee. Janey, on the other hand,
was practically in tears. “Janey, it’s only hair for goodness
sakes. It will grow back.”
“But it’s so short! And it covers your face. I can't
see anything but your sunglasses anymore!”
Obviously my goal had been reached. I gave myself a
mental pat on the back for a job well done. “It’s easier to take
care of now,” I soothed. “What’s the use of long hair when I always
kept it pulled back or pinned up?”
“Oh my god! You cut off your nails, too?” Janey
wailed. The way she was carrying on, you’d think I hacked the heads
off the pirate bears collection.
I couldn’t resist teasing her. “It’s a good thing you
can't see the skull and crossbones tattoo over my right ass cheek.
I thought I might as well go all out on the make-over.”
Ken snorted his coffee. At least, that's my best
guess at what the muffled sound was. Janey was silent. It started
as a soft giggle, then Janey laughed, and the stress of the room
dropped dramatically.
In a quieter, but determined voice, she asked, “What
happened? You love your nails. You love your long hair.”
Ah, the downside of a long-lasting friendship is
eventually your friends know you exceptionally well. I gave an
edited version of last night's disturbance, and I told Janey I
didn't feel comfortable with my face exposed. Janey started to cry
and got all clingy. Silly limpet.
Eventually, Janey sniffled herself into a relative
calm and told me the cut looked very nice and she was sorry she'd
gotten all upset. Uh huh... I amended her description to silly
lying limpet, but let it go. She was trying to be supportive.
Ken made a nice meal of spaghetti and French bread,
and we broached the subject of newly revised assistant hours. Ken
agreed I didn't need him at the house twenty-four hours a day
anymore. I was comfortable getting around, and I now had Red for
company and support. Over dinner, we devised a new schedule,
reducing his availability: nine in the morning to six at night,
five nights a week. He still had a room at the house, but now had
weekends off to correspond with Janey's schedule. It was agreed
they would play (aka: have crazy monkey sex) at Janey's place where
they would have privacy and I wouldn't be subjected to Janey's
tears if he were having problems performing his studly duties. That
earned a threat to have my bed short-sheeted next laundry day.
Yeah, whatever.
Feeling overfull with pasta and garlic bread, we all
sat on the couch for movie night. Movie night at my house was a
random evening where the sound is turned off on the TV. Janey and
Ken take turns making up dialog and strange voices to describe the
action. Tonight was a B-Movie spaghetti western (not an accidental
choice considering dinner). Ken was cracking us all up by trying to
find different lines to describe every time Clint Eastwood squinted
into the camera. Eye actions ranged from a fierce “I wanna kill
something” squint, to an evil “I'm gonna bust yer ass” squint, to a
“Hey baby, yer kinda sexy—wanna screw up against a water tower?”
squint.
After dinner, I sat at the table with a slice of
cheesecake and a mug of Seattle's Best coffee. Red had fallen
asleep during the movie but was awake now, and chewing on a furry
bone. The toy box he pulled it from was Janey's idea; teach a dog
these are the things you can play with.
I was contemplating if I wanted to try taking dance
lessons at one of the studios in the area in an effort to ignore
the activity on the couch. My patience finally ran out after about
thirty minutes of whispered innuendos and stolen, lingering kisses.
Yep, I was jealous, but sheesh, I was trying to drink my coffee and
carry on a conversation with myself.
“Ken, can you drag my friend out of here? By the hair
if necessary. You two are not as quiet as you think you are,” I
informed them. “I heard a zipper being
Similar Books
