Hurt people hurt other people.
I took my dog, Moe, for a walk this afternoon, and witnessed one of the maintenance men at the apartment complex unlocking the door for a soldier. I saw a leasing agent and one of the housekeeping staff peek in the opened door to see if they could see the person they were looking for. They did, and no one entered the apartment. I heard the leasing agent calling the police on her cell phone, and then came the sirens.
Presently the paramedics and fire department arrived, and then the coroner. A woman rolled up in her wheelchair, and asked if that was what happened when she heard the gunshot this morning.
I never heard a gunshot, and I walked right past that door this morning.
What really got me was how matter-of-fact everyone was. No distraught expressions, no wiping away tears. Even the curious women who gathered around and obviously knew this person didn’t seem affected.
I saw one of the women in the laundry area later. ”What happened?” I asked her, and got the expected answer. ”It wasn’t a crime against….any other person.” She replied, and I knew my suspicions were correct.
A soldier had committed suicide.
Truth is, I have thought of suicide in moments of despair, and recently, too.
I’m distressed about this person I didn’t know leaving this world. What demons chased them?
Could this be a lesson?
Life is strange.
Just found out one of my female coworkers went to prison for eight months for killing someone.
If she was only there for eight months it must have been INVOLUNTARY Manslaughter, right?
I found a converted mill loft I wanted and filled out the application form. I didn’t hear back from the leasing office right away and assumed the worst. I haven’t really worked much for the last two years and am having difficulty contacting my old landlord. I had given up because the other properties I’ve looked at were way too expensive or such dumps I’d be miserable. I resigned myself to living with Mother for a couple of more months and continuing to drive the hour and a half commute.
They called today. My loft will be ready this weekend. I can’t believe things are finally, finally going my way.
This is Duke, aka Dukie. He’s pretty old now, is overweight and has heart valve prolapse. I wanted to take a photo of him while he’s still with us. He’s just about the sweetest dog ever. I mean it.
It’s my day off so I got up and drank some coffee on the back porch, listening to the rain falling on the tin roof. The phone rang and it was my mother, telling me that a man was going to drop off some vegetables and to look for him. I barely had time to throw on a robe before I heard his beat up old car in the driveway. He had about a bushel of peas, the same amount of sweet corn, and two watermelons he dropped off. He asked me if I’d ever shucked an ear of corn before, and I laughed. “I was raised on a farm,” I told him. I knew the proper word was “reared” but I didn’t think it best to use it here.
I put in a load of laundry and set about hulling peas. It took over two hours. But it rained the whole time. Pea hulling is a great time to think. Once the peas were finished, I started shucking the corn, then cutting it off the cob. Nothing is better than fresh sweet corn, simmered in a bit of butter and salt.
There was already a watermelon in the refrigerator, but it wasn’t the best, so I cut it up into cubes and tossed bags of watermelon in the freezer to use for cocktails later.
I took the pail of watermelon rinds, pea shells and corn cobs and husks out behind the chicken coop. Chickens love to peck at vegetables, and by tomorrow only a thin shell of watermelon rind will remain.
The wood floors needed sweeping, so I did that and Mother asked me to simmer some pork neckbones to eat for dinner on, and I did. I’ve never eaten pork neckbones, but evidently you simmer them in salt and pepper until the meat falls off the bones, then pick the meat off the bone. You put the meat back into the pot, along with the broth and cook rice in the same liquid. She says it’s delicious and will go great with the peas and corn. Also, cornbread, because you can’t really get enough starch in any meal here.
I fold the laundry and put it away, and now the kitchen is a mess, so I wash and dry the dishes.
Now I’m sitting here reading Twitter and Tumbler because tomorrow I have to drive into the city for work.