i want to be a nell...

but first: an coworker asked me if i had diabetes the other day. like, they were genuinely concerned and taken by the amount of times i peed in a working period. c'mon, people!

last tuesday, i took over a new route for meals on wheels. most of the time, the people don't remember your name or really truly care anyways...but i was wearing a very flowy dress and it was a windy day so, i think i made a pretty lasting impression. hello 87-year-old max, here's your waffles + ground up sausage...

my last delivery was at a woman named nell's house. they usually give some sort of information or description about the person. hearing loss, blind, immobile, or, in one lady's case, crazy hoarder (she really is!). for nell it said all of the above (besides hoarder!) with a slightly in front of the word blind...whatever that means. i pounded on the door and opened it a crack to announce that i was meals on wheels! here with her waffles and sausage bits and whole-fat milk!

when i finally gave up and just let myself in, i was overwhelmed by the amount of fake flowers in the apartment. so many. after some poking around, nell finally wheeled herself out into the living room and told me to set the meal on the counter and tell me a little about myself. i had, after all, just barged into her house.

but first! nell was and is tiny. her small frame was practically sinking into her wheelchair. her arms were so thin and transparent and she had one tooth that kind of hung out of the side of her mouth as if to say i am the last tooth standing! victorious! she must have been...two hundred and seven years old?

onwards: i began to tell her about how i was from idaho. and had brown hair. and liked riding my bike in good weather conditions.  i have conditioned myself to believe that some of my least-favorite parts about my body are genetic traits...even though my mother and two sisters prove they are not and...

i drifted off and started to notice that she was getting shifty. what the heck, nell? i'm in the middle of telling my life story and you're getting shifty?

i then noticed that she was holding something under her shirt. was nell going to kill me?! oh heavens. i always knew i could never trust a nell...

but i continued. she still seemed mildly interested and i was on my lunch break so, why the heck not? i started to get back into my life and how i was a pudgy elementary school kid and how i firmly believe that that is what shaped my character. i looked out the window for dramatic effect.

THEN! out of the corner of my eye, i see nell move quicker than nell should be moving. she whipped out a liter of coca-cola from under her shirt, took a swig, and returned it back to it's hiding place.

nell! that sneaky spy! the lady must have thought i was going to rat her out for her mass consumption of the dark poison. i slowly turned around and pumped my fist in the air and said right on, nell. right on.

okay, no i didn't. but i wish i had. because how kick-a is that? it was only 11 a.m. and the lady was nearly halfway finished with that thing.

it's decided: i want to be a nell.