only in New Orleans

Sooo...today....craziness...but I need to write about last night. And about my neighbor. Different neighbor. Not the Most Awesome Neighbors Ever, i.e., mentioned below. But the other neighbor. Who is awesome...in his own way. Stan. *sigh* Stan. I heart Stan. I really do. Despite our (relatively miniscule) ups and downs. Stan is the guy who, after finding out that my ex dumped me on my ass, STAT, showed up on my doorstep w/, I shit you not, chocolates in one hand and Valium in the other (unbeknownst (at the moment) to me) b/c, and I quote, "these will help you sleep." See, Stan has a crush on me, despite his knowledge of the fact that I don't play on his team. We once spent a long evening together discussing everything from God's (non)existence to the pandemic of violence in schools these days. That was the evening Stan found out. And he proceeded to give me one of those Catholic prayer cards. Of St. Jude. The patron saint of Lost Causes. I know. And I know this because I'm Catholic. Because once you're Catholic, you're Catholic, whether you like it or not. Stan, however, is a convert. But he's a good egg. He really is.

So that evening I accepted his prayer card, with some trepidation (there's no hope for me and I'm OK w/that) and the other evening I accepted his Valium and his chocolates, even though I (at the time) had no idea what the former was. But I did because I trust Stan and I know that he has my well-being at heart.

But so anyway...last night...last night Stan knocks at my door. It's 8 p.m. Not that that matters. Or, at least, normally it doesn't. I open my door and say, "Hi Stan." He says, "Um, I know this is a weird question but..." And I think, oh, here we go. "But you're the only person I can ask..." Oh, hail yeah, doubly here we go. Sweet! He says, "I know it's 8...but is it 8 a.m. or 8 p.m.???" I take this in. And I look at the sky. Sure 'nuff, it's overcast like nobody's business and it could really be either the sun's coming up or the sun's going down. And he says, "I drank a bottle of wine and I fell asleep. And I woke up and made a pot of coffee and then I went outside. And no one's leaving for work. And I got confused."

I say, "It's 8 p.m." And he looks relieved. And he says thanks. And he says, "I'm sorry, and I know that was a weird question but you're the only one I could ask. And I was so freaked out." It's OK Stan. I understand. And I say, "Actually, this is good b/c you've got, like, another 14 hours. It's like a little gift from God." And as he's walking down the steps of my porch he says, "I don't know what I'm gonna do with all that coffee."

Me either. But I do know this. I love this city.