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08.29.03 - 1:25 a.m. I am tired. I volunteered to paint some of the walls at the center after all of the donors were out. Miss Purkeypile (yeah, no shit...that is her last name...her husband's name is Dewey. Dewey Purkeypile. Dats some funny shit, no?) so yeah, she volunteered to work off the clock and help me. I am salary so I can put in as many hours as I want. Such a gift. To be honest, I wasn't exactly excited when Abby offered to help. Abby is one of those folk (and she is 'folk') who just sort of grate on your nerves. I can't even explain the things she does to drive me crazy, because they come from such innocence. Maybe that's what drives me crazy is she has NO idea how aggressively annoying she comes across? I will try to give examples... She does this hovering thing that just drives me nuts, and then when she finally speaks she can NEVER get to the subject...she has to make everything a production. There is always this build up in either words or wide-eyed facial expressions. Then she elaborates. And elaborates. Eventually, maybe, the point. Purkeypile is one of those people who will pop her head into my office at least once a day and say, "Keepin' busy?" or "Gotcha workin' hard?" It was hilarious the first 5 or 6 times, but then it just got twilight zone. You know when a cheerleader does that hand move for, "Ready...O.K.?" They sort of swing their forearms like a pendulum, slap their thighs, and then clap their fin-shaped hands...well, if you know what I am talking about you were either a cheerleader at some point in your life...or you are gay. The point, however, is she does that little move all the time. I think it is residue from her showchoir years in high school. She was never a cheerleader, I am sure of that...I see her more as a volleyball player, or "manager" for some boy's team, possibly wrestling. Yep, I am proflin' here, baby. I have to gather the threads of this little story quickly...it is soooo late and I have work early in the morning. Abby and I painted together. She asked me about my family...how many sisters, how many nephews, and we talked about work. It was pleasant. She didn't reveal anything surprising about herself, but she was open, and I think she won't be as annoying to me because of it, at least in part. Yeah, she will still do very annoying things, like speaking, but I realized she's in it with me, you know? She is just trying to get through the muck, too; hoping for something better, and blowing on the little ember of hope we carry into adulthood. I think I realized she had that hope, that ember. I think, maybe, this is why I will see her differently. Why I should see everyone differently. I wonder how long this epiphany will last. It is probably already gone; most surely tomorrow when I wake. Miss Purkeypile. The name is still hilarious. PS She is a messy painter.
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