I'm a straight shooter with curly hair
Yesterday in the evening we went to this huge Asian supermarket called SF Supermarket over on 65th St near Stockton Blvd. It's mostly Chinese, but there are little sections for various Asian countries. I just wanted to see some different stuff--I wanted the stimulation. We ended up buying a few things: avocados, some fake canned meat, a super cute little aloe plant. I will see if Erik will photograph the aloe plant for me.
When we were leaving the apartment to go to SF Supermarket, I was going toward the car and passed by the door of the crazy lady, and she talked to me. She said, "Do you live in apartment three?" I realized she was talking to me, and I got goosebumps on my entire body.
"No--we live in apartment nine," I said quietly, walking away.
"Good, because I didn't think you were me," she said. (Later, trying to figure out what she meant, we realized that she lives in apartment three.) "You should come visit."
I'm terrified of the crazy lady and would never come visit. Everything she said to me was in a strange, biting tone, as if she hates my guts, though I have never done anything to her or fought with her in any way. In fact, we jump started her car once, years ago. She's the only tenant who has lived at this apartment complex longer than we have.
Today Erik and I went to the big farmers market under the freeway and got no-pesticide cherries, organic nectarines, mint leaves, and a huge cabbage.
Then we went for a mini-walk at McKinley Park--mostly we just sat on a bench near the duck pond.
Then we went out to Indian food for lunch. Kaveri raised their prices on the buffet. It's too expensive now. Maybe we won't go back. Erik asserts that when we first started going there, it was $7.99--now it's up to $10.99.
I've been working more on the typing project I have going, typing childhood texts for my best friend E. I've started emailing documents to her, which feels good, so there's another copy somewhere in case my hard drive were to crash. She says I'm doing a good job, and I feel happy to have her praise.
When we were leaving the apartment to go to SF Supermarket, I was going toward the car and passed by the door of the crazy lady, and she talked to me. She said, "Do you live in apartment three?" I realized she was talking to me, and I got goosebumps on my entire body.
"No--we live in apartment nine," I said quietly, walking away.
"Good, because I didn't think you were me," she said. (Later, trying to figure out what she meant, we realized that she lives in apartment three.) "You should come visit."
I'm terrified of the crazy lady and would never come visit. Everything she said to me was in a strange, biting tone, as if she hates my guts, though I have never done anything to her or fought with her in any way. In fact, we jump started her car once, years ago. She's the only tenant who has lived at this apartment complex longer than we have.
Today Erik and I went to the big farmers market under the freeway and got no-pesticide cherries, organic nectarines, mint leaves, and a huge cabbage.
Then we went for a mini-walk at McKinley Park--mostly we just sat on a bench near the duck pond.
Then we went out to Indian food for lunch. Kaveri raised their prices on the buffet. It's too expensive now. Maybe we won't go back. Erik asserts that when we first started going there, it was $7.99--now it's up to $10.99.
I've been working more on the typing project I have going, typing childhood texts for my best friend E. I've started emailing documents to her, which feels good, so there's another copy somewhere in case my hard drive were to crash. She says I'm doing a good job, and I feel happy to have her praise.
posted by Laura-Marie @ 1:29 PM
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