Here She Comes Again

We went to a party the other night. I had a question for my dermatologist. So I worked the room until I could get her alone and say, "Am I candidate for XXX?" She pulled me into a corner and gave me her opinion.

Earlier that week, I had a legal question about the oldies. I ran into an attorney and later a judge that I know. I asked them both.

Sometimes I meet the husband at the club for dinner. He is often playing cards with my Internist. He treats the oldies too so I can ask my questions.

There have been homes I'm curious about. I have friends who are Realtors. They look up the stats and even take me through them, knowing full well that I have no intention of buying.

I try to return the favor. If someone asks my opinion about their writing or a marketing project (especially if they have my medical or legal records,) I am there.

Still, I wonder. When I walk in a room, do these people think, "Oh no, here she comes again."

When I Don't Answer

Writing is generally a solitary pursuit. That's probably part of the appeal for me. I like being alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I crack myself up; sometimes I let the tears flow. (Please put the strait jackets away -- I come back to the real world.)

During these periods, I try diligently to avoid my instinctual reaction to answer the phone. I have been accused of screening calls. It's pretty untrue. Those of you who think this are giving me way too much credit. You're assuming I can actually see the caller ID screen. I'm not avoiding you; I'm avoiding the phone. But I fail. I usually take a break and listen to voicemail. I do call back.

When we're in group conversations, there are a couple of reasons I don't answer. I'm either gathering my thoughts or I'm working on my resolution to keep my big, fat mouth shut. Usually I fail but I'm still working on it.

When I don't answer the door, it's probably because I don't recognize you and I'm positive I do not want to buy your magazines or hear about your church. Anyone who knows me probably has a key to this house. If they were genuinely concerned about my health or well-being, they would let themselves in.

This was my week alone. Twice I heard someone tap on my office window. They both have keys but they're respectful. They're also diligent. I didn't answer the phone and I didn't answer the door. So, they stand in the back yard and get my attention. It made me laugh.

The husband called last night. He's flying home as I write this. He asked, "How was your week alone?"

Alone?

The carpets were cleaned. The computer guy was here. The cable guy was here. Friends were here (Yeah!) The workout girls were here. I had a couple of business meetings here. The postman/UPS/FedEx man needed my signature. My dad stopped by. All of these people were here at my request or invitation. Hmmm ... maybe when I'm done writing, I don't want to be alone after all.

The oldies are on their way home. I'm busy today. Maybe I won't answer.

But, like everyone else, they have a key.

The Avoidance Game

The husband and I have both worked for big corporations. One of the things they love to do is those personality tests. Big Daddy tells me that he has been tested and he is "Conflict Avoidance." (Why in the the world did he ever marry me?)

I'm in Oldies Avoidance mode. Their grandson was here and they were cranky with everyone. I was annoyed beyond belief.

So, I take the dog outside. Or, I shut myself in the office. Or, I take a swim in my tub. If I hear them shuffling in, I can vacate a room so fast your head would spin like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist."

It makes me sad. I think they're avoiding me too.