August 14th, 2007

Roman

A job would be nice

Paul is losing weight again. He has apparently run out of money. Maybe he has a little but he's really stretching it now. No more trips to Trader Joe's or even to the liquor store for loose tobacco. He seems to be living on coffee, cheap Zatarain's rice mixes (I think they are all gone now), and microwave popcorn. Unless he has a secret stash of something that doesn't take refrigeration, which I doubt. But which is possible. Like chocolate. I think there are a few eggs left in the dozen he bought, and there's butter he can use. Maybe he's saving that. There are two English muffins on the counter, in a bag,that he bought about ten days ago or so. Oddly, they don't look moldy. Probably loaded with preservatives.

I blithely make breads (foccaccia the other day, a  puff pastry pizza last night, cupcakes about a week ago) and eat them. Mostly I eat all of them. I don't mention them although I leave them out sometimes, an invitation. I make meals for myself, full meals, full of veggies and potatoes and anything that seems nice to eat or drink. Wine, iced tea, water. Sometimes, often, I don't finish all that I make and I save it overnight. Then I eat the rest in the morning. I don't want him to starve but I want him to be thinking rather seriously, rather critically, about getting a job.

I ask myself, why? Why is it that the people who enter my life tend to be a little nuts one way or another? I suppose it's because I am too. There are few people I would have invited into the old house to stay even a day, much less several years (I think we're going on five now!). There was Ron, clearly and certifiably nuts. And now Paul, who is just vaguely asperger-like nuts.