Everybody Knows

I had plans with my neighbor today to take the dogs downtown and relax over a cup of coffee near the river. Honestly, it was pretty awesome, as our dogs frolicked (yes, FROLICKED) with other dogs and we relaxed while watching the water roll over the ice. Haaaa, I said ICE. Because when she came to pick me up, she was coatless, clad in only a sweater and jeans and marveled — clearly before taking a look at me — that it was incredibly warm outside, wasn’t it? And then ha ha HA, she took a gander at me, who took one quick gauge of the general temperature and wound a giant pashmina around my neck and threw on a wool coat. Oh, and I grabbed MITTENS just in case, and my hat was firmly ensconced in my pocket. And she HOWLED, because clearly I am not accustomed to this.

No no, it was not warm, and I’m ashamed of myself for saying it, but I’m a winter PUSSY after living in Florida for two years. PUSS.AY. I can hack it if I’m properly attired, but I’m not about to go prancing around COATLESS, unlike some (very nice) lunatics out there.

I had quite the social day, which resulted in getting very little done, but after the Great Sickness 2008, wherein I was apparently sucked into the vortex of misery such that I believed that I, too, was sick, it felt great to get the hell out of the house and into the real world. And, as is the nature of a small town, when I went to work at the coffee shop, I ended up having impromptu coffee with two other people I know in town, which is ABSURD, as I have only been here a month, and how is it possible that I know enough people to have three pseudo coffee dates in one day? THE HELL.

Dude, it’s lovely — please don’t get me wrong, for I honest to God love it here, and that’s an integral piece of my love — but I’m surprised that I sort of miss anonymity. Not on a regular basis, of course, and certainly not enough to actively COMPLAIN about it, but there’s something I’ve always found vaguely comforting about being able to go somewhere that you can just disappear into the crowd and not see anyone who knows you. I used to love that about Boston — whenever I needed to think something through, I would pick a section of the city like Beacon Hill or the Back Bay, and just walk around, stopping for coffee and lunch by myself. Despite its size and my network there, I never found Boston to be like New York, where you run into people you know every time you head out (at least I do. Every time I visit. EVERY TIME!) It was wonderful — I honestly like being alone quite a bit, and to a certain extent, I need a little of that on a semi-regular basis, even if it’s just a long car ride.

I mean, I can be alone in my house all day if I want to — Adam goes to the office and since I work from home, it’s all mine — but there’s something incongruously perfect about going out into the world to be alone, I don’t know what it is. But here, I’ve honestly never gone anywhere, from the grocery store to the hardware store to a WALK THROUGH THE WOODS, NO JOKE (THE WOODS, AS IN PATHS IN THE WILDERNESS) without running into someone I know. For God’s sake, even when we took Adam to the ER on Sunday, the woman checking him in read our address and got all excited, introducing herself as our neighbor, and hey, what a great time to meet new people, when you’re hacking your lungs out and delirious with fever!

Dude, that’s NUTS. NUUUUUTTTSS. It’s like ONE DEGREE OF SEPARATION ALL OVER THE TOWN. And I’ve been here ONE MOOOONNNNTH. In three, I expect that it’ll be like goddamn Cheers all OVER this place.

While this doesn’t present many challenges — hell, it’s incredibly soothing, really — it does force me to look decent wherever I go, because LORD KNOWS I’ll run into someone who will tell someone else that they saw me and that I was wearing a T-shirt with beet juice dribbled down the front. Really, this HAPPENS. The second woman I had coffee with told me that she heard from the first that I was there and she thought she’d say hi. MY GOD. THE SMALLNESS. SHE HEARD I WAS THERE. And the second woman told me that she was worried about the first, as she was “looking a little peaked.” And she wasn’t being gossipy — she was genuinely worried, oh my hell. Beet juice would spark rumors of a bloodletting, especially if word of my screaming gets out. But they would be NICE about it! SO NICE!

The also prevents me from driving as I usually do. I … I’m an animated driver. The word “douchebag” comes out of my mouth perhaps a bit more often than it should and I do a lot of arm waving and the occasional middle finger flipping, despite repeated warnings that someday, someone is going to shoot me in a road rage incident. I know this is bad and rather obnoxious, I KNOW. But rest assured, that option has been ripped off of me like wet T-shirt. Jesus, I’ll flip someone off and they’ll turn out to be the owner of the bookstore I frequent or the checkout girl at Shaw’s whose mother is the dental hygienist in town who cleaned my teeth and knows my husband’s boss and WHAT THEN? Adam will be fired and we’ll be run out of town with pitchforks and torches, that’s what.

I know, I’m sounding crazy, I KNOW. But I’ve never lived anywhere this small before, and to have that degree of “oh HI!” all over the damn place after a month is just … I’m sorry, but this is just … it’s freakin’ surreal. The whole thing. SURREAL.

Happy Thursday! I have … I have yoga. Third week in a row, and I expect my ass will be none too pleased, for I couldn’t walk until Sunday after last week. SUNDAY.

*The Decemberists

20 comments April 2nd, 2008