Bean Men can be deadly, despite their catalog model good looks.
Beware the Bean Men! Especially if you have G6PD Deficiency and cannot tolerate beans/legumes of any sort!
They are pure plaid wrapped evil.
The Baldguy saw this catalog in our mail and altered it for my enjoyment. He stuck it back in the pile of mail that I may never actually get to. It had been a couple of weeks so this morning he finally caved and showed it to me.
This is why I keep him around. He’s a very creative goofball.
And he’s also sweet. Back in 1998 we had a giant flood in Somerville, MA. Sure we were safe on the third floor of our triple decker, but a week or so before that I had decided to move back to NY and pursue work in NYC. Being fairly diligent, I started moving non-necessity belongings down to the creepy basement so it would be quicker and easier to assess what I had left to do and would make loading the truck/van easier as I was still a hard-headed, fairly able bodied, do it myself kind of a gal.
And then the flood came while we were at Shnoog’s(not her real name, though over a dozen years have passed and we still think of her as Shnoogs and probably always will) graduation party up in the hillier area of Somerville.
When we got out of the car I was up to my knees in flood water and the rain was still coming down.
Jeff and I got inside and dried off and as I was a red-headed wild child, I grabbed our summer roomie and went down to the first floor to introduce ourselves to the bakers dozen (or more!) of young Irish medical and engineering students that were moonlighting on US soil for the summer, working for a local moving company and sleeping 4 to a room.
We had a ball hanging out with the lads and probably swaying just a little from all of the beer and the gentle rocking melody of their Irish brogue.
I checked the basement at one point, and the flood water was a foot below the ceiling. The washing machine bobbed by, as did a bottle of Tide. I think I took a photo of the tide as it made me us laugh… It seemed like very intricate product placement to us silly drunk ladies.
A few days later, and the firemen came to pump out all of the basements on our street and fix some of the damage at the school across the street. That is when I realized that the non-necessities in the drip-drying basement didn’t just include winter clothes and books.
January was down there. January, the stuffed pig I got when my folks went to Florida without me when I was four.
Here’s January now (after I cleaned him, restuffed him, and stitched him up)… He now belongs to Alex.
I broke down as I carried them outside into the sunlight. I just lost it. I cried for my stuffed animals, for the extra odd symbolism this inflicted on my latest transition from child and student to independent adult. I cried because I knew Jeff would be leaving for LA and the summer all of a sudden seemed so short. I cried. I cried. I cried.
The next day was like any other. I went to my job at the production company and took the T home to Somerville that evening. I walked down the hall of our third floor apartment, toward the kitchen, and something caught my eye from inside the bathroom.
The stuffed animals that inspired my meltdown, the day before, were all sitting around the ledge of the tub.
They didn’t look dirty or muddy and matted.
On one of them was this note:
It’s strange. We had a horrible year as roommates. I’m pretty sure that Dave and Pete (our other two roommates) hoped we’d kill each other so we’d both be out of their hair, but we stuck it out and spent a good portion of the year fighting and angry all of the time, and the rest of it plotting what our next passive aggressive insult toward the other would be.
We really weren’t good friends before the flood happened, before that summer.
But this act of great effort and kindness changed that. From then on, we were true friends.
Anyway. I have to finish up this rice pudding (will share recipe when I’m done changing everything about it!) and go to bed. More tomorrow..