nfotxn | Margarin Lady

This morning I am baking a Rhubarb Apple Crisp as I hear a knock at my door. Domestic bliss not skipping a beat I answer to see what is obviously an inebriated woman in her late 30's with a face that's seen a rought life, booze aside. Cigarette burning in hand she invites herself in and asks me if I have some margarin in which to baste some boneless fish. I return to the kitchen and fill the container with a good 1/2C to which she asks for a bit more. As I return once more to fulfill her unusual request I hear her commenting on my house and how "beautiful" it is (uh, whatever!). Some incoherant rambling about angels watching over me I shoo her out the door, DuMaurier Light still smouldering.

"You can keep the container." I say.

It also came to my attention returning from Toronto this weekend that our neighbour returned a wallet of my Mother's. Having thought it stolen months ago it was an interesting suprise. He'd apparently found it in the drawer of an old desk in his garage. The same garage his son would have his sketchy friends stay in and smoke pot during all hours of the day. His son, however, has since returned to Texas to stay with his Mom so I can't go over there and beat him up.