Good Photographs Make Good Neighbors
It took me all day yesterday to get over my irritation about having to write a cheery response email to The Mexican, my least favorite ex-boyfriend.
Actually, it took me all day yesterday to get over being mad that my ex-boyfriend still can make me mad, even unintentionally. And by the way, his lack of intention somehow makes things even more annoying.
The Mexican emailed me again today to let me know that I was, in fact, correct in my identification of my neighbor’s house in a 1975 photograph by Stephen Shore. Goody for me.
And now I’m annoyed once more. And I cannot even explain why.
I can’t waste another day being mad about being mad. So I decide I’ll do something nice with the emails and try and reverse the effect the emails seem to have on me. I decide that I will make a nice color print of the Stephen Shore photograph and give it to my neighbors who currently live in the house in the photograph. I will turn lemons into lemonade.
I’ve only met these neighbors in passing, usually while I am bent over, picking up my dog’s poop off their parkway. They are a nice lesbian couple who think that I am a polite lesbian dog owner. I know they think I’m a lesbian because every time they see me they ask me, “Aren’t you so-and-so’s girlfriend?” (And I use the title “so-an-so” not because I’m trying to keep some girl’s sexual orientation a secret, but because every time they ask if I’m so-and-so’s girlfriend, they are asking about a different girl. Or maybe they’re just asking about the same girl who changes her name all the time. Somehow I think this is doubtful). Maybe all the girls in their lesbian peer group have girlfriends with dogs that look like my dog and that’s why they think they recognize me. Or maybe I just look like everyone they know, like I have some sort of an everylesbian look about me.
At any rate, even if they are already aware of their home’s photographic pedigree, they’ll probably see my little surprise as a nice, neighborly gift.
Of course I don’t have a color printer. So I forward the photograph to Mr. Foxypants at work, where he is on super-duper deadline, to print it out for me on his fancy work printer. So now I’m making my poor boyfriend do work for me on behalf of the neighbors who don’t even know I’m straight, so I can stop being mad about being mad about an email from my ex.
My boyfriend stays late at work to print out the photo for me. He is so nice to me, it makes me want to cry.