Text 23179, 130 rader
Skriven 2012-04-02 01:34:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: nuts 465
================
This isn't an April fool's joke, though I wish it were.

My brother started an argument with me today. I knew it would
happen, as he wanted to go out to dinner yesterday and
actually chose a decent place and said it was his turn. And
dinner was more or less fine, so I was waiting for the other
shoe to drop. And it did. Big argument. I'll probably rant
about it to someone later. The boy is completement noix, as
they say. I was going to describe this here, but it's not the
place. So I'll just talk about the meal. Mostly.

He wanted to go to Crisfield, where our parents had taken me
for special occasions 45-50 years ago and for which I have a
soft spot (largely undeserved). Turns out they had occasionally
taken him there as well, which suggests the question of why he
researched all afternoon a few months ago before suggesting we
go to Phillips. Anyhow. The plan was to take the bus at 6:15,
arriving around 7 after a transfer at Friendship Heights. Fine.
A bit after 6 he knocked on my door.

- What is it.
- Do I smell?
- How should I know?
- [taking off his shirt] Well, smell me.
- [sniffing tentatively] Maybe a little, but not that bad.
- Should I take a shower?
- I don't think that's necessary.
- I'll take a shower. I haven't had a shower in a while.
- How often do you shower?
- More than once a week.
- How long is this going to take?
- I take long showers. More than half an hour.

So the agreement was made that he would have his shower, but
we'd miss any reasonable bus, so he had to drive. At this
point I figured two things. 1. He was going to start an
argument. 2. He loves to drive, and he was maneuvering into a
position where we'd have to take the car (he knows that I
prefer public trans for economy and ecology).

Eventually we got to the restaurant. Big line, Friday in Lent
and all of that. Crisfield has been a fixture in Silver Spring
for over half a century - although it seemed old and dingy when
I first went there, it was a relative spring chicken then. It
hasn't changed much but might be a little cleaner now, plus a
half dozen oysters that might have cost a buck then now cost
ten. I chatted with some of the other people in line - it's a
really strange system, both free-form and honor, with two kinds
of seats, bar and back room, with a senior waitress calling out
periodically "next two" or "next four" and assigning them a place,
but the bar seats are really up for grabs, only she says they
aren't, but the bartender says they are. I didn't get into that
one. After a short wait, less than the projected half hour, I
heard "next two," and nobody moved. So at second call of "next
two" we went and got our little table right by the bussing station.
Jonathan had informed me that it was his turn, so I went fairly
easy and got half a dozen oysters (instead of a dozen) and
a crab cake sandwich (instead of a crab cake plate). Also four
beers, but they are a buck for a 10-oz Bud so no great pain,
and my meal was all told less expensive than his meal. He had
broiled salmon, which came out moist and really nicely done,
a big portion as it should be for its quarter century; the
double fries were crisp and quite good as well. My oysters
as before filled the plate - there were eight plump ones, not
the briniest in the world, but pretty good. I suspect Gulf
or Virginia riverine, not Chesapeake. The sandwich was ehh -
shreddy nonlump crabmeat, possibly fresh, unlikely native,
heavily mayonnaised and with numerous bits of green pepper,
briefly fried in fine crumbs. The crab was pretty good, but
the mayo and pepper dominated, and the effect was as of an
undercooked Imperial. Budweiser was almost beer, and I needed
multiples as Jonathan talked about increasingly loony things,
as when he was told by a cop to stop staring at someone at
the bus stop and how he gets accused of harassment without
knowing why. Also why the topics he brings up in therapy are
not germane to the therapy. Most of my rather noncommittal
responses were met by an astonished "that's what Dr. X says,"
or "that's what Dr. Y used to say," or "Dr. Z is the only one
who caught on to that." Makes me think that my insights are
even less than I had thought. And that he's playing games
with psychiatrists, even as he does with me. By the time
dinner was over, I was ready to lose my cool but did not.
Surprisingly, he actually did pay and did leave a tip, which
he calculated at 20% (he says he always leaves 20%) but was
actually 15 if that. And also surprisingly we didn't get into
an accident on the way back.

P.S. Here's an e-mail exchange from shortly before I arrived.

From: Jonathan
We now got mouse turds popping up all over the place.
Not just in the kitchen. I plan to do something about
them, but that might aerosolize them.

To: jonathan
I believe that your concern about pathogens in the
turds is exaggerated, though thanks for thinking of me.

From: Jonathan
> I believe that your concern about pathogens in the
> turds is exaggerated, though thanks for thinking of me.
If my concern about pathogens in the turds is exaggerated,
then I will ignore the turds and do nothing.  [Either that,
or vigorously attempt to clean up (the way I did at the
beginning of January), the night before you arrive.]

From: Jonathan
> I believe that your concern about pathogens in the
> turds is exaggerated, though thanks for thinking of me.
There are more mouse turds now than ever.  And they are all
over the house.  You cannot avoid stepping on them; I would
estimate about 1 mouse turd per square foot.

I started cleaning the kitchen last night, but as soon as
I was about to start my heartbeat became very irregular.
I ignored it and actually cleaned for about 20 minutes,
and then my back started to hurt, so I stopped.  If the
condition of the kitchen last January was "50% clean"
by my standards, just bear in mind that the condition
today is "25% clean."

==

The upshot. I got there and found that though he did not in
fact clean up, there were no turds either. As I didn't trust my
eyesight, I felt around the counters and crawled on the floor
and still couldn't find any. Sometimes I sit there and wonder,
what did I do in a previous life to deserve this?
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