March 26, 2013
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The Mean Streak
I have a mean streak.
I do. It’s an ugly little buzzard sitting down somewhere near the gizzard of my soul.
It makes things up.
Mean things.
And then it convinces me they’re funny.
And then I say them, intending them as a joke–hahaha, imagine if I really meant this–and people’s feelings get hurt.
I don’t know what that’s about, probably because I don’t want to know what it’s about. Are the mean things I say really secretly true and the kinds of things I would say seriously if I had more guts? I don’t think so. I have examined these malaprops carefully after they have danced naked off the end of my tongue and poisonously barbed the exposed flesh of people I love. Did I really mean that? Why would I say it at all if I didn’t? Am I harboring hidden angers and aggressions that fester like boils until they erupt?
I could point out that fundamentally humor is laughing at that which makes us uncomfortable. It is our way of saying, ‘doesn’t bother me. I’m okay with that. Strike!’
Humor is also how we say to each other, ‘I know you well enough to know to hurt you. I choose not to at this precise moment because you’re my friend–but I do know how. Look! I didn’t do it.’
I don’t know why I’m mean. It’s certainly not a trait I admire in anyone else.
Riley and I are home alone today. Well, Ilah is here, but she stays in her room. (Because Nancy and I are succulents who thrive around 68 degrees and Ilah is a hothouse tomato who needs to be 110.) I called Riley inside earlier this morning because he was barking (every dog in the neighborhood was barking, but he was the dog barking in my back yard.) He came to me a minute ago. Cheryl. I have to go outside again. Don’t hate me because I’m half-husky. And then I heard the discreet rattle of the dog door. He would never just go outside, even if he was taking his nap in the living room and I was in the Conservatory. As often as not he’s happiest when I walk him to the back door.
Annie went to work with Nancy because I said something insincere and mean this morning. There was a tiny exposed nerve just lying there on the floor and–being me–I stomped on it. So she took Annie to work with her because yesterday I said that Annie was ‘very busy’ all day and actually ended up briefly in her crate because I was tired of her barking at the neighbors. Nancy took her to work so I could have ‘some peace’ today.
I am the hardcore dog-trainer who every ninth offense remembers to snap, “leave it!” and then stands there with my jaw dropped when she leaves it.
Wow! It works!
Duh.
Anyway. Ilah’s head is healing nicely. She beat me at Phase 10 the day after her trip to the ER, so it does not appear she’s suffered any brain damage.
Oh yes: another Riley story. Because Ilah’s head has a hole in it (stapled shut, but a hole nonetheless) Monday I went to writers group and Nancy stayed home with her mother and the dogs. I spent 3 hours at group and then I drove to Richland to drop off my taxes, so it was a little after one when I came home. I opened the garage door before I drove in. And then I went out to the street and brought the trash can back in. So I came home, but I did not immediately come into the house.
Annie sang, “She’s home! She’s home!” and dashed through the kitchen to dance at the garage door in anticipation of my arrival.
Riley got off the couch, stretched, walked over to Nancy and nose-bumped her. She didn’t take me, this morning, he said. I’m not that excited to see her come home, are you? He cuddled right up against her. It’s you and me, Nancy, because you stayed home with us and she just went gallivanting off without a care in the world…
But his eyes kept going to the back door.
Me and you, Nance–just me and you…
I got the garbage can situated, closed the garage door, dug my stuff out of the car… By the time I opened the garage door Annie was standing there, checking her watch What have you been doing all this time–didn’t you know I was waiting for you?
And Riley was dancing sideways through the kitchen (he runs like a puppy when he’s excited) You’re home, you’re home! Did you have a good time, did you see any dogs, can I go with you next time, Oh, thank God, you’re HOME!
No, really. I’m punishing you.
