Tales of the Weekend

I can’t believe it’s Monday already, a workout day.

Monday has rolled around way too soon, and I don’t feel ready to face another week of life outside — errands, workouts.

However, with the memory of having run into Not Dead Nancy (NDN) on Saturday fresh in my mind— the only time I left the unit over the weekend, to purchase extra-large trash bags and check mail, and seeing how much more she’s deteriorated since the days we participated in the pool’s Water Aerobics class, and she was hot-to-trot with the guys on the complex, I’ll push through, seize the day and the week.

For new readers, and to refresh others — since NDN hasn’t been mentioned in the blog since 2019, NDN was thusly named because, at one time, we had two Nancy’s.

One was Nancy The One Who Runs into Things (NWRiT) because she always was — once backing her car into the tree out front, almost taking out the gate at another time. There were dings all over her car.

The other Nancy was when NDN was known on the blog as Loosey Goosey because she was an insatiable man chaser.

When, in 2016, the Crisis Team came in and took her boyfriend (the perv known as Creepy Guy) to the VA Hospital for evaluation, because someone saw him outside the complex, standing in the same spot for two hours, talking to himself, and Loosey Goosey realized he wasn’t coming back, was on his death bed actually, she visited and tried to get him to marry her so she could collect on what was rumored to be a nice chunk of change in his bank account, plus bonds and a pension.

Creepy Guy’s doctor got wind of Loosey Goosey trying to take advantage of a dying man, and had her banned from the facility.

THEN, looking for another sponsor, Loosey Goosey approached my buddy Apache, who she knew was plush with cash, asking, “Do you need a girlfriend?”

Apache declined the offer.

So here we were with two Nancy’s being discussed on the grapevine, and sometimes it was a bit confusing as to which Nancy was being discussed, i.e., the one I referred to as Loosey Goosey or NWRiT.

Once I was clear on which Nancy the grapevine was talking about, I could have easily referred to them on the blog as White Nancy (NWRiT) or Black Nancy (Loosey Goosey), but that would have been wrong. LOL.

At any rate, when Nancy NWRiT was found deceased in her unit (natural causes) and people would continue to talk about a Nancy, I one day heard someone clear up the issue of which Nancy by saying, “The Nancy who’s not dead yet”, and thus Nancy, formerly known as Loosey Goosey, became Not Dead Nancy here on the blog.

Did that explanation of the naming algorism make sense?

At any rate, having seen NDN at the mailbox, I can now cross her off the Roll Call List as still living here — post pandemic present and accounted for.

Now completely dependent on a walker since developing balance problems, NDN tells me her doctor recommended exercise so she recently bought an indoor bike, which she got on and promptly threw out her hip. So now, she's dependent on a walker and dealing with pain because her hip is stuck in gear.

I can relate to that. The day after my very first session at the Pain Cave, I was in the drug store, buying every pain aid imaginable so I could work through the pain of kinks loosening up, rather than succumb to them.

Now, almost two years later, though I still can't perform like the younger clients do, my joints are nicely oiled, loosened, and I rarely if ever hurt ... knock on wood, other than when I occasionally aggravate an old rotator cuff injury — and even then, my recovery time is swift and sometimes doesn't even require the shoulder brace I used to wear.

"Don't give up, take it slow, shake it off and work through", was my advice to NDN, but she said she hurt and wasn't planning on getting on the bike again. LOL.

I did manage to clear some recorded television programs off my bucket list, and made some very little progress on the needlepoint project over the weekend. Remainder of the time was napping, and working out how to get the possessed microwave out of the unit, down to the dumpster.

Thinking back on how I managed to get it upstairs in the first place, it would have to have been by use of a dolly — and here we are again with my getting rid of things I would ultimately find useful at a later date because, clearing out the outdoor storage area in December, seeing no further need for the dolly, I gave it away.

I could ask Handsome Man to help me out, but I don’t want to open that can of worms.

His ego would interpret, “When you have a moment, can you please stop by, help me get something down to the dumpster", as "When you have a moment, can you please stop by, wha, wha, wha, wha she likes me, she wants me".

I don’t need the headache, so I ended up ordering another dolly, but one specific to stairs.

In the interim, I managed to get the microwave off the counter — aggravating that old torn rotator cuff injury in the process (no brace needed), but it’s off the counter and in a corner, wrapped in that large trash bag I picked up, waiting for the trolley to arrive.

That one time I was outside over the weekend, I also ran into Negative Nelly — the woman I’d promised to perform the Rebuking Ceremony on should she want to get into it with me again over her dislike of the painted rocks and/or my calling her awful to her face.

As I walked towards the mailbox, just before I saw NDN, here Negative Nelly comes, straight at me, down the walkway, but rebuking didn’t happen.

It appeared she didn’t remember me or the incident because, passing right by me, she looked dead in my eyes, smiled, gave me a cheery, “Good morning” and kept on going.

I’d had a feeling this would happen. That she, being old (though no more older than I), that as time went on — even though it was only two weeks ago, she'd probably forget the incident.

She evidently did, and it’s difficult to be unpleasant to someone who has no recall and is being pleasant, so I begrudgingly returned the greeting with a simple “hello”.