1. When you go for a run people say hi to you.
Which is always awkward, because you have to put on a forced smile. And it's forced not because you don't mean it, but because you are running and you don't want to acknowledge that people can actually see you. Because then you know that they can see your sweaty discolored face and the shorts that have rode up causing what my sister has lovingly coined "chub rub."
2. When you go grocery shopping people are wearing the same shirt as you.
In my case it was a green top I had just purchased at the Banana Republic Outlet in Hilton Head, South Carolina. The woman who was wearing it was a good 30 my elder. A very versatile shirt, I suppose. I tried avoiding her, but the shirt was bright green and Trader Joe's aisles are so gloriously wide open...So every time I saw her I would quietly chant "twinsie, twinsie, twinsie."
3. You fix things around the house.
My mom asked me to help fix our garbage disposal. Me! I am Ms. Fix-It. First I took off my beautiful, bright, One-Of-A-Kind shirt, replaced it with a Tom Clancy black t-shirt that could fit a small gorilla (very hip) and then placed a dish rag down for my head to rest on under the sink. My mom said "look for a red or black button on the garbage disposal." I found a red one. Then my mom said "Push it." So I did. I asked her how long I should push it. She said "Let go." I did. And thus the garbage disposal was fixed.
4. You bring in the mail. And the garbage cans. And recycling bins.
There is always mail. Every day. There is usually a can or bin to bring in. If there isn't one to bring in, there is one to bring out.
5. People drive you places, drop you off, and then pick you up...ALL THE TIME.
Today Becky's mom dropped her off at my place. Then my mom dropped us off at the Grosvner Metro station. Then we took the Metro into DC, to Dupont. Then we took the Metro to New Carrolton train station. Where my mom met us with her car to deliver Becky's baggage, and then Becky took the Amtrak train and I got in my mom's car and went home with her. TO AND FRO. TO AND FRO.
6. You deal with with wild animals.
YES! WILD ANIMALS!
This morning as my friend, Becky, was being dropped off at my house by her mother, I noticed a new statue in my front yard amidst the shrubbery and flowers. "Mom!" I called, "When did you get a snake statue?" It was a snake who was biting onto a rock, a snake that looked long and it was spotted with gold and black and was thick like the kind you see at the zoo. I walked in. Becky stayed outside. We were getting ready to be dropped off at the metro.
"The snake statue moved. It just moved!" Becky shrieked. She came in.
I went out, she followed me.
"GAHHHHHHHHHHHH." We screamed in unison. "Oh, my god. That snake is eating a mouse." I yelled, jumping up and down and waving my hands like someone who has lost complete control of their limbs, or like they have something icky on them.
"It is eating something, RIGHT NOW!" Becky ran into the house. I ran into the house. "THE SNAKE IS EATING SOMETHING RIGHT NOW OUT THERE." My mom, more annoyed than nervous goes out. And comes running back in, jumping up and down "Oh, OH, Oh, Snake!"
That's what I had said. Snake. No one ever believes me.
We try to call for help. And by call for help. I mean run inside and use the telephone. Calling for help is useless in the suburbs. It is like hailing a cab by whistling in New York. (Don't do it, it looks stupid and doesn't work.)
The humane society tells us to call the animal shelter who tells us to call the cops. The cops tell us to call the exterminator.
My mom told me to watch my step.
SUBURBS ARE INTENSE
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