As most of you know, I am in the process of moving. Ah, that gypsy spirit, once again sending me across country in search of adventure… or income… or…
It’s an unusual time here at the old housienda. I have been traveling back and forth between Seattle and Floriduh over the past six months, dividing my time between my new life and my old life which I am bringing with me to the new one.
If you’re confused, join the club. I have been living out of suitcases and boxes for almost half a year now, one foot in the puddles of Puget Sound, the other in the sun-drenched sand of North Hutchinson Island.
I never knew I had so much stuff. What’s more, I never knew that an evil plot had been hatched, one that I only came to learn about this past Saturday.
My significant other and I were at Earl’s in Sebastian. Our friend Stoney’s band was playing and we wanted to say goodbye to he and his wife, Ailene. We arrived a bit early, so we were talking about all the packing we had been doing recently.
I made one of my usual vague references to make a point. It was the fact that I was leaving all my stuff behind, just like Richard Dreyfuss in The Goodbye Girl. If you remember the movie, Elliott was going off to Seattle to make a movie and Paula thought he wasn’t going to come back. He calls from the phone booth on the corner and asks her to restring his guitar while he was gone – yes, he was coming back.
It was then that a heinous plot was uncovered. Or should I say, it began to unravel. Jan mentioned that she always coveted my cookware and cutlery. For her, that was my guitar. It didn’t matter that I was actually leaving five of my guitars with her, it was all about the cutlery and pots and pans.
“Go ahead and go to Seattle,” she said. “I have what I always wanted.”
Aha!!! The truth comes out, as did a string of one liners that had us both doubled over in laughter.
“I see you’re not drinking tonight,” I said. “So, you’ve really been a teetotaler all this time. You only drank so you wouldn’t blow your cover.”
“Just like your ex,” she replied. “We’re in cahoots.”
“Cahoots? You’re in cahoots with my ex?”
“Yes,” we’re lesbian lovers and we’ve been plotting this all along.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned.
“Wait, my ex and I used to get it on. She had orgasms. Didn’t she?”
Jan burst into laughter. “I’ve been faking the drinking, you don’t think she could fake an orgasm?”
I shot back, “Well, they were hardly Academy Award winning performances, now that I look back at it. Damn, I still can’t believe this.”
She then explained the whole thing to me. While everyone thought it was me she liked, it was really the ex. It was all set up to deceive our friends. It turns out that they both liked my cookware and cutlery, not me.
It all began innocently enough. A Mutinous Munchies at the house. Dinner was being prepared. Talk turned to my big cleaver and cavernous pots and pans. “He has a colander?” Jan would say. “Oh, yes,” replied the ex. “And don’t you just love his filet knife? It cuts through cans you know.”
“No,” Jan said in amazement. “I just have to have these.”
“You can,” said the ex. “I have a plan.”
Before I knew it, our own relationship had turned sour. What was momentarily bliss turned into a living hell. I never knew why. I thought we’d be together forever. And we would have been, if it hadn’t been for my superb taste in kitchen cookware and cutlery.
Now, you’d think that this would have played out simply. In the land grab for possessions before filing for divorce, you’d think the ex would just grab the cookware and cutlery, trading out the dishes and glasses. But no, she chose the dishes instead.
Great, I thought. I can’t believe she chose those ugly dishes and Wal-Mart glasses over the Emeril Legasse pots and pans, but I won’t put up a fight. Yes, an odd choice. But so was the choice of the hanging pirate guy over the reproduction of a cannon from the movie Hook. Ah, the stupid choices we make in the heat of the moment.
The cookware, cutlery and I moved on to calmer, prettier waters. Life couldn’t have been better. I admit that I was a bit wary when my significant other gushed about the cookware and cutlery too. I guess I should have made a connection then, but she had been so open about not liking my ex.
It turns out that was all part of the rouse. All those trips to Melbourne weren’t to get her nails done. There was no Thai nail filler. They were doing each other’s nails.
Damn, damn and double damn.
So now I head off to Seattle, my stuff supposedly on its way there as well. I’m sure my significant other was just joking. She has a great sense of humor, unlike my ex. But the proof will be in the coming weeks. We’ll see if my cookware and cutlery show up. Or Jan for that matter.
Headed for the Emerald City,
– Robb