Cat Lady

The moment a spunky old lady with foul mouth of Boston asks you if you'd like to see her cat in a lady gaga outfit or a wedding dress, that's the moment you review the decision making process that more often than not lands you in scenarios like this. It started in the whole foods line, I was using my rent money to buy some gluten free flowers and a new berry from the Amazon that will cure my malaise, an older woman approached and asked if she could touch my necklace. I don't usually say no to grandma types. This keeps me flush with rock candy, peppermints and good karma (at least one of you needs to keep your mind out of the gutter). We struck up a conversation in the parking lot, she was as kind as she was quirky, intuitive as she was zany, not a word I've ever put to use, but an apt one for her measure. She spoke no nonsense east coast with the pulse of caffeine, urgency and zero fucks given. She mentioned that she was a few days away from an estate sale and being the junk entrepreneur that I am, I wanted first crack. "Come over in an hour" she said. I brought the flowers to my lady and what started as a nice gesture turned into a seemingly deliberate -here's some flowers, but we have to do some possibly weird shit, but remember that time I got you flowers-. Shortly after walking into a house as cluttered as my mind on a Tuesday, I was in a losing twister position, legs arched over a valuable antique Barbie set, left arm imploring an inspector gadget reach to unplug a turntable, dust marching against me armed to the teeth. She asked "would you like to see my cat try on some outfits?" I've never had to answer a question like that before. We paused too long for comfort before delivering a stern "absolutely." Thinking to myself "each decision I make is for the sake of the facebook post and the validation to come." It wasn't until the "opening day at Del Mar" outfit that I thought "why am I not documenting this????" There was only one point when I thought we might be murdered. She kept trying to lure Dani into her bedroom to take a seat. It's weird to have a calm thought like "I wonder if she's gonna murder us, probably not, but maybe....." Later that night I found myself wearing a sars mask alone in an unlit mildewed garage with a spelunking set up, digging through old records for a couple of gems. So come Christmas time when I give you a record Littlefield and you walk away saying "that cheap bastard al could only muster a dollar for my gift!" Know some costs can't be simply measured in money and it was a challenge to mine that "coal" for your stocking! Lastly, and maybe the highlight was finding one of my own CDs in the garage and when I told the 61 year old woman she owned one of my albums and she shouted "FUCKIN AWESOME" with an unsheddable Boston accent, the evening was fulfilled.