And yet, the next day, she called me. I have no idea if she traced my Caller ID or remembered me from a text earlier on Saturday or the week, but she asked if I could make time for her. To which I said ... uh, maybe? When I couldn't reach her that Saturday, I began to solidify plans for my Sunday, most of which revolved around doing my taxes. I told her as much, but I left open the possibility that I would be free in the afternoon. ******a said she was going to do some chores, and after she's done she'll call to see if I am free at that point. That seemed like a plan.
And plans are made only to be ruined. I left a little later than I usually have on Sundays; my parents still think I'm working at my day job, and I just wanted to keep up the ruse a little while longer, but I didn't want to wake up at 9 if I didn't have to, so I think I woke around ... 9:15? 9:30? Anyway, I went to grab a couple donuts at first Glam Doll and then at Bogart's, and then I visited Grandmother and my uncle at Lakewood. I brought matches with me, from a matchbox I got from Pizzeria Lola several years ago, and they may have been told old, but I had to go through ten matches to get three to light up for only the slight breeze extinguish them as soon as I lit up the unburned portion of the incense sticks on Grandmother's headstone. Should buy a Bic lighter.
The big time slog happened after Lakewood, when I went to the Hennepin County Library closest to Lakewood (Hosmer, housed in a beautiful building). I really buckled down to try and finish my taxes, and I came to realize that I had to revamp most if not all the forms I worked on. It had to do with the American Rescue Plan's, uh, plan to forgive the first $10,200 of unemployment insurance getting taxed at the federal level. (I don't think the state is doing the same, but I don't know why they wouldn't similarly forgive, and I'm not sure that there won't be an adjustment later this year.) There is a new worksheet on which you need to do some new math, and that adjusted amounts on Schedule 1, and that changes what I had to put down on my 1040 ... and I think it got to the point where I needed to print a couple new tax forms (was it the one on capital gains?) so I could start over again. Thank God printing apparently is free at all HCL branches.
So I stayed longer than I thought I would, and I didn't make much headway. I decided to spend the next chunk of my afternoon at the Wedge, specifically trying out the burger at Bebe Zito, the new ice cream shop right next to ol' Caffetto. They serve burgers on weekends, and many people (including the ones on this Facebook group concentrating on burgers in the Twin Cities) rave about them.
It was a 20-minute wait for the burger, so I decided to buy a couple Cokes, walk down two blocks where I parked, threw one of the Cokes in the car, and walk back. All that, I figured, would be enough time so that my burger would be ready once I got back to Bebe Zito. But halfway on my way back, I got the call from ******a. She said she could be ready around 2, which was 30-45 minutes from when she called me. Since it was Mother's Day, I don't think it would have been great for me to get back at 4, which has become the time around which I get back during the week. In other words, I thought about coming back just to placate Mother. So I told her I was in a bit of a time crunch, and sorry, and I want to try again next week. She understood. God bless her. I love her.
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During the call on my way back to Bebe Zito (by the way, we spoke for a few minutes; I got back approximately 30 minutes after I ordered; and I had to wait another 5-10 minutes for my burger -- which is all that it's cracked up to be ... and so is their ice cream, which I had once before), I told ******a I couldn't leave a message because her mailboxes were full. She said she would look into that. I crossed my fingers that there would be no problem when I called her the following weekend, which was this past weekend. No dice; both mailboxes were full.
I swore I would not text her, but I wanted to see her and I have no other way to communicate with her, so I texted the phone number she got most recently. And I got a text back saying my message was blocked. Weird! I was able to text her other, older number, but I never heard back from her.
I then decided that I would drop by her place after work (this Sunday, I actually worked). I didn't know what to expect, but I was hoping that she would be, like, tanning herself outside because it was a sunny day. But when I rolled past her apartment, there was no sign of her, and her curtains were drawn shut. I was not going to go up and knock on her patio door. So I just rolled by.
I hope ******a is OK. But frankly, she's been going on and on for the past year about how people in the building she lives in can listen to her in her apartment and shit. She's been talking crazy for a long, long time; that's why she goes on and on about Hillary Clinton. For all I know, she's having a psychotic break, in which case I can no longer help her. I regret not biting the bullet and getting felt up by her on Mother's Day. And unless something dramatic happens or if she bends her rules to text me once again ... well, I'll need to find another stripper masseuse.
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