Patience is a Virtue

Do you find yourself having less patience now that we live in a permanent state of pandemic? 

I understand that a lot of people are just pretending that Covid is over or perhaps that it never existed at all. These people fill me with rage. (I live in the South -- this summer has been very...challenging.)

It’s just… I can’t. 

But for those of us who care about our impact on society, it is tiring - amirite? 

If only there were someone I actually could call, sigh. 

Anyway, back to my point - intolerance. Upon reflection, I realize that I have always been at least nominally intolerant. For example, one time I was considering dating a man who was vegan. After I told him that I was not vegan, he replied in a joking manner, “Well, no one’s perfect.” 

I never spoke to him again. 

Furthermore, I do not enjoy when people break plans, arrive late, and/or do not respond to my texts within 12 hours. (Mostly because I immediately assume that people are dead when they do not follow the plan that was clearly laid out in my mind.)

Did I mention that this summer has been very hard on me? I honestly had no idea how rigid I was until every single thing that I planned for fell through over the course of four months. RBG dying before the presidential election took place pretty much put me over the edge. WE DID NOT PLAN FOR THIS! I am sure that you can relate. 

Me every single day during the months of June, July, August, and September. 

I am working on becoming more accepting. To be fair, I consider myself VERY accepting of the patrons at my library. Take the Murder Sisters for instance. Their book preferences revolve around calamity, serial killers, animal attacks, gruesome encounters, and Westerns. They always have excessive fines - which they argue about with vigor. They cuss loudly at the circulation desk. They demand a staff member walk them over to the gore section on each and every visit. But I don’t know, I find them kind of charming. You know exactly what you are going to get with them. They are consistent. I like that about them. Now if only I could roll that accepting attitude over to the rest of society that behaves poorly. 

God, they make it so hard for me to be nice. 

Speaking of Murder Sisters, one time when I was on a pre-pandemic stroll through my neighborhood (something that I now neurotically do three to four times a day) a strange woman approached me waving her arms wildly above her head. She wasn’t fully dressed, wearing only a bra on top. Her hair was snarled and caught fitfully in the breeze. She croaked out in a witchy voice, “Excuse me young miss (I was 38) - I need you to help me move my groceries.” As I looked up at the decrepit house behind her, I sighed. This was it. This was how I was going to die.

Like this but with less clothing and more terror.

She gesticulated to a flat of water laying on the side of the street and I took that as my cue. As I stooped down to pick it up I repeated to myself in my mind, “You are being a good citizen. You might one day be alone and in need. You are helping humanity.” Outwardly I said, “Nice weather we’re having.” 

Without a glance back she gestured vaguely with an outstretched arm to the general vicinity and announced, “Me and my sister are on disability. We can’t do all these things anymore.” Before I could respond she continued. “We been living here for near our whole life. But these steps aren’t gettin’ any easier. My sister is worse off than me. She can’t much get out of the house these days.” I immediately felt terrible about my assumption that she was going to kill me while I simultaneously considered the fact that her ‘sister story’ might be the decoy for a murder plot that she has been concocting for the last 113 years. I followed her into the house. 

My brain started singing The Monster Mash as I approached the house. I inwardly tipped an imaginary hat to myself for the magnificent soundtrack choice.

Turns out her sister was real. She was waiting for us inside the house, pantless, at the top of the stairs. I said hello and she launched into a somewhat garbled speech that touched on the topics of soup, joints, and a neighborhood pest of some sort. I couldn’t be sure if the pest was of the human or animal variety, but I suppose it doesn’t matter much in the long run. I politely listened as I took in my environment which was filled with drawn blinds, dust, and piles of forgotten items. 

When I felt like I had listened for an appropriate amount of time, I said my farewells and extracted myself from the dank manor. I thought, “I should come back. I should bring them groceries. I should have a cup of tea with them.”

But I never went back because honestly, I did not want to do so. 

What I have done is taken a closer look at my neighbors homes and yards in general so that I can make sweeping assumptions about them and then relay these thoughts to friends who join me on my walks around West Asheville. You know what is trending in terms of lawn accoutrements right now? Mannequins in various states of disrepair!! Anyone who knows me understands that I have a deep rooted relationship with mannequins and I find them to be both horrifying and inspiring in equal parts. 

Here are some snaps:

Mannequin Head Number 1

Mannequin Head Number 2

Mannequin Head Number 3

Mannequin Head Number 4

Mannequin Head Number 5

Mannequin Torso Holding Head

Subtle Mannequin Torso

Mannequin Torso with Additional Arms and Items

Stone Mannequin (also known as a statue, but spookier looking as if it used to be a real girl who had a spell cast upon her by a witch.)

Full Mannequin in an Evocative Pose

I, too, would like a mannequin for my yard. I’d like to have a theme for it, to keep things fresh, ya know? Perhaps I could keep one sitting on my porch and dress it up in various seasonal outfits like the people in the Midwest do with stone geese. I could give it awesome makeup. 

Truth be told, I’d like to set it up in an assortment of action poses around the yard. I know this would take a lot of effort to manage, but I have some great ideas. For instance, my mannequin could be working in the garden, spinning the compost bin, sunbathing, breaking into a window, taking out the recycling, and more!

When I was young I would set up my Barbies in different positions in and around the Barbie Dream House™. Then I would have nightmares that they would come to life, march upstairs single file, and attempt to murder me. Oddly, this didn’t stop me from creating their still lifes. I hope my mannequin doesn’t haunt my dreams.

How are y'all feeling these days?