Poe

EFL, as we all know, is not exactly a spring chicken–in fact she’s teetering on the edge of seventy-nine. There is nothing wrong with being this age, naturally, unless you happen to be this age and aren’t too very happy about it.

What I am about to say is not to mock youth-impaired persons (read: senior citizens). It is to demonstrate the fact that EFL, as always, is delusional with a capital P for Prozac.

EFL is quite fussy about what she’s wearing when workmen/doctors/anyone who isn’t someone close to her visits.

This is all well and good and perfectly understandable.

The thing is, if said person shows up, say, twenty minutes early she will have a absolute CONNIPTION and demand they come back when she’s dressed properly.

Let me also state that EFL is not exactly a looker in the traditional sense. Or the untraditional sense. I don’t say this to be petty or mean or anything of the sort. I’m just saying that EFL won’t be running in the AARPs Sexy Senior Citizen Pageant anytime soon.

{EFL suffers from the same problem I do, currently. Said problem being that she is built like a [very frail] quarterback}

Now, were her worries re: clothing just about looking proper etc I wouldn’t be discussing this. No. Absolutely not.

This, however, isn’t her issue.

No, no, no, no, no.

Her worry is that her Usual Daytime Attire, when not receiving visitors, will give said men the wrong idea.

That idea being: that she is putting the moves on them.

Or better yet: were they to see her in her Usual Daytime Attire, they would put the moves on HER.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that being confident in ones appearance–at any age– is a good thing. And, yes, it’s nice to think that members of the opposite sex will simply walk in and SWOON the moment they lay eyes on you no matter WHAT you’re wearing. Oh to be sure, I have the occasional day where I’m walking about in my comfie clothes and wistfully daydreaming. I’ll answer the door for say, the plumber, only to find it’s Colin Firth. And the moment he sets eyes on me in the glory  that is my fleece pajama pants/battered grey t-shirt/fuzzy slippers and OH-SO-sexpottish ponytail/bun hybrid he will shout ‘Damn it all, marry me, Babs!! You gorgeous thing, you!!’  Then I’ll run upstairs, trip [though gracefully], regain my composure, call Shirley, Annie, and Frieda and order 42 back-issues of Brides Magazine–STAT!!  While a cheesy 80s music montage plays in the background. Heavy on the Duran Duran. Oog!! And that one Erasure song (Look. You can just fuck off RIGHT now, ok??).

Bah. Got sidetracked, didn’t I??

{Also. Note to self: break faucet in kitchen as last plumber that got sent here was DEAD. BLOODY. ADORABLE.}

I find it a bit hard to believe, though, that a twenty-eight year old electrician is going to waltz through EFL’s door, see her in her Usual Daytime Attire, declare her a brazen hussy, and run out the door again. Especially since her Usual Daytime Attire is less ‘Fancy Nightdress That One Might Have Seen on Dynasty’ and more ‘Ankle-length Terry-cloth Robe That Ernest Borgnine Might Wear’

This is all so very annoying because EFL will cancel appointments with people coming to the house left, right, and center because she ‘doesn’t feel up to getting dressed properly’ After she’s asked me to specifically free myself up for a day so I can help sort whatever problem it is and show said person about. Then expects me to cancel everything on ANOTHER day to make up said appointment. Which I refuse to do. Unless I’m already free that day.

Anyway, all of that?? That’s not the best part. Not by a long-shot.

EFL has one friend that comes to the house. Helps her out with various therapies etc and will come check on her during heat waves. And cold waves. And whenever EFL has a problem that neither myself or her sibling can handle she will ring this person and she–I suspect–laments her state so they will eventually feel bad enough to help her. Said friend also calls her up for a bit of a chat on occasion, knowing that virtually no one else will (Owing to EFL’s ways and habit of pushing all her friends and relatives to the point of no longer talking to her).

This person is of the male gender. And forty-odd years younger than EFL. And married.

EFL is always worried about this. You see, she talks to said party’s wife on the phone, too.

‘And she’s a bit weird with me when we talk’

Of course, the reason she is weird is NOT  because she rings up this woman’s husband and talks for three hours about her corns while he politely listens, as he’s a genuinely nice person and feels bad for her.

Nor is it the fact that she ’sort of’  moans and laments so he will toddle along and help her.

No. Not quite.

EFL is quite certain the wife thinks this man is having an affair with her.

EFL also thinks that he might think she’s putting the moves on him. And that she’s giving him the wrong idea.

‘Which is ridiculous. I mean I’m flattered that she thinks this–but heavens!! He’s a married man!! I hope he realizes I’m just looking to be friends!!’

Because, you know, had she said otherwise he’d totally hit that.