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she put her socks on this time. the blisters were still smarting from the last go. She suited up her cowboy boots (after seeing that snake crawl out of the grass, she now had imagination) and took the dulling manual cutter and went out there and pushed. She often had to pause to pull the tall weeds, and she never got them all, but she loved looking at the lesbians shiftily-maintained yard. they had bought an electric mower and the shorter-haired one had been out cutting it twice. Jesuca's favorite part was that they cut that weird ten-inch swath on the other side of her busted driveway.
like she could call it hers.
the lesbians had been at it twice since they moved there how ever many months ago it was now. Jesuca had thought she was going to be such great friends with them - and get invited to their whatever the cars were always there lined up to do. Maybe cards - maybe charades. She never really associated lesbians with horny mad sex orgies. It always seemed more testosterone's job.
and she knew she wasn't going to do the entire yard. for July fuck's sake, it was sweltering even before nine. but she always felt like she burned an entire half a can of Coca Cola she sweated so hard. on the fifth or sixth or second swing around the rows is when she started dropping the lord's name in vain with a few fucks in there. towards the very end, she'd start pausing and look at all that needed to be done still and go "fuck".
and then she'd start up again. one more pass. then, she'd give up, and feel silly for not doing it all but knowing from experience she wasn't going to and load that puppy in the garage - well cracked carport would be more accurate, and the little blades of grass would fly off as she banged it against the wall.
then she walked in the house. Dobby started up immediately saying shit with his high pitched whine - maybe 'oh my god.i saw you out there." or "what are you doing now? what was that". and with orangie, it was always the stare that wanted the perfect splash of water in the always-there kibble.
why did the room smell like pee? were they having silent territory battles? was Dobby upset about something? what the fuuuuuuccccckkkk. but first, she had to tell them, "give me a minute. not now."
then she went to get ice water. her face looked like a Korean on an allergic alcohol bender and was dripping with unattractive sweat. she then splashed her face then went back to get the water and saw the fucking ants. they had found their way inside. she had to deal with that asap so she stomped stomped stomped all around them. she had changed out of her boots into the beige platform shoes that had ZERO connotation with Leon (yay). she picked up the food and put it in a plastic bag with the ants still attached and quickly washed the ants off her hand. She wondered if she should not waste the bag and empty his fucking litter into it, but she was too scared of the infestation, so she ran it to the outside garbage - passing the begging outside cats whose food was also covered in ants, "eat faster next time fuckers." she came back from the garbage and just said "give me a minute." then she modified that "give me a fucking hour. maybe an entire day. maybe forever!"
but that was lofty.
she drank her water. she decided, "shit, maybe I can take a shower for the first time in days." she had never taken so many showers in her life when a bath was in the offering and she'd only taken about five showers. something was up with her. she was over it. so she trudged to the shower and decided it would be the quickest but it would be great to get the thick itchy hot wet off of her. she fucking cussed at the water taps and herself not knowing which way the hot or cold went to turn them on.
she cursed the shampoo when it fell off the caddy onto the floor. she decided not to shave her sparsely-haired legs - she wasn't going to be impressed.
she got out. got some more water. stomped some more aunts and looked outside at the half-mowed yard and felt like a fucking bad ass.
she then started sneezing and feeling the tickling tendrils of hair everywhere. the cats. hers. she wondered when she was going to pull it all out with her nervous meanderings.
and she had only thought of him once.remembering how last year, she would always wear her headphones and listen to music while she cut and how she once took a photo just to send him a slice of her impressive if unnecessary effort. and he had replied something that didn't make sense to her, but she had let it go.
she had let so much go. knowing/thinking it didn't matter because this was going to be real.
she laughed.
bitterly as fuck.
he had thought she needed him maybe - that she was going to ruin all his fun - stop him flirting. but she knew he was a flirt. she loved it. she understood. he had not understood. she wanted to connect to him, so that she could feel free. it made perfect sense to her, but their magnets kept missing contact. she had wanted to play, but she had not wanted to be a fucking fool - dancing alone again and again. she hated even saying she "needed" a beer. she wanted him. she wanted a beer.
besides. today she had a real mission - a task. now, time to get out of this fucking hot house that smells like the last of nature's miracle, go to the Catholic section of the famous cemetery, photograph a forgotten headstone that the heir got shamed into cleaning (by her mother - his wife) and hamlet it all fucking up.
to be or not to be.
there's no question.
and fuck, it was something she liked to do - get hot then drink. she just wished there was someone to talk to who lit her up like god's Christmas tree.
but she could think that until the cows came home.
moo
and she did have cellulite on her waist. she had seen that when she dared look at herself on the way to the shower naked (of course) and she definitely was like "fuck" to that. but she had maybe survived. it hadn't been pretty.
she would have probably been a surprise. she loved being alone silly.
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