Apollonia and I were running errands the other day; she was driving the car and I was jumping out and delivering things. “Sorry that took so long,” I said, getting back in the car after one stop. “Everyone kept stopping me to chat.”
She looked at me sidelong. “Well,” she said, “you're the mayor, after all.”
I sighed. “I suppose I am,” I said.
I have lived in my neighborhood for over thirty years. I have worked at my current job for almost twenty-five years. I know pretty much everyone, and they know me, by sight if not by name. I can't walk to work without waving to at least three people. I was waiting for the elevator the other day when one of Partner's co-workers shrieked at the sight of me. “Where's your hat?” she yelled. “I didn't even recognize you without your hat!” (I usually wear a I LOVE WARWICK RHODE ISLAND hat, which was (indirectly) a gift from the Warwick Chamber of Commerce, but it's a long story.)
So, apparently, I am the crazy old stooge with the stupid hat. You know: the older guy who just babbles on and on about nothing.
And I have created this image all by myself.
Remember Grandpa Simpson? “It's an interesting story. Well, maybe not so much interesting as long.”
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen:
I am the gabby drooling old wreck you really ought to avoid on public transportation.
Somebody shoot me immediately.
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