Work is not really the right word for what I do. But I do sit in a particular chair in my living room. I sit with my laptop on my lap. I sit here a lot. Oft. I sit here ofttimes. In front of me is a couch. On the couch is the dog.
Above the couch are a row of windows. I sit and, absentmindedly, stare out the window.
I do most everything absentmindedly. Some call it day-dreaming. I call it thoughts and feelings continuously flowing uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue. My teachers called it “almost failing.”
ANYWAY. I am sitting in my chair and I realize I am absentmindedly staring out the window. I notice the woman across the street (whose name I dare not speak) standing in front of her large picture window. She is an older woman and I’ve see her putter about in her yard scads* of times… Now I see her standing in her living room, looking out her window. Not just looking out her window – she is standing stiff and still – as if in confrontation. She is staring, staring at me.
I wouldn’t expect a television actor to stop the show and look through the glass at me looking at them.
It’s not as if I am standing and staring out my window. I am in my usual slumped position, eyes barely over the screen of the computer, headphones blaring music in my ears. I am camouflaged. She shouldn’t be able to see me. But she does. She sees me and I’m not kidding: She, this elderly lady, gives me TWO MIDDLE FINGERS! I actually pointed at myself “who me?” and turned around, sure to see some scoundrel. But no! The eminem-style-double-flip-off was meant for me. ME!
I watched as she closed her blinds.
*scads – most certainly a word invented by Kathy Rider during her prolific word invention period.