my new friend
Yesterday afternoon, while Jered was off fishing, I moved a carload of boxes to The New Place by myself. You see, he is clever when he needs to be and does a nice job of getting out of the sort of tasks that either involve work or the two of us yelling at each other in front of our 105 year-old neighbors with their canes. And even though they can't hear us arguing, because they cannot hear at all, it is still embarrassing to be known as the-girl-who-has-been-moving-in-for-the-past- month-and-why-does-she-have-so-much-shit.
So while I was unloading my car in the underground parking area, a little old man, whom I'd like to refer to as "Joe" simply because the name suits his character, clothing, and size, came waltzing down the stairs and walked to the other end of the parking garage. Now I say "waltzed" because I have yet to see anyone in the building walk faster than 1 mile per hour on a good day. And Joe was walking pretty damn fast for a 95 year-old man. Then again, he is much younger than any other given dweller in the building.
"Joe" struck me as that perfect little grandpa who could spend hours and hours watching reruns of The Price Is Right, and who has the potential to be really good at croquet. He probably weighs no more than 100 pounds, wears denim jeans and suspenders quite frequently, and is known for biking in the parking garage. Like for exercise.
This is at least what I thought when I saw him get on his bike yesterday. Little did I know that he bikes in figure 8s down in the garage every day because he is waiting for his wife to come home from work.
He referred to me as the girl-who-is-moving-in as if moving in meant that I was the first person to move into the building in the last 75 years. If I am known in the building for anything, it can only be a result of my stumbling to bring boxes up the stairs for the past three weeks By Myself.
"Joe" helped me to get some of the boxes out of my trunk, even after I insisted he stay on his bike and continue with the figure 8s already.
But the rest of the night I could not stop thinking about this sweet little man. He is now my favorite person in the building who is in good health.
My favorite person in the building NOT in good health is the man in 215 with the irritable bowel problems. His name is Jered. Someday you will meet him.
posted by Laurel @ 7/26/2006 12:42:00 PM
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