So while I’m wandering through life, lost and unemployed, I’ve decided to help relocate to San Francisco to help a friend do some DIY around her condo. She recently had a boyfriend help her redo all of the woodwork and since he went back to his country of origin to finish school, she thought she’d recruit me to help her.
I jumped at the chance to leave Seattle and living with my aunt to relative freedom in a new city. I really don’t know Karen* all that well, we met a couple of years ago when I was visiting SF and we have kept in sporadic contact. I remember when I met her how impressed I was by her independence and resourcefulness. She was a couple of years older than me and owned a condo in a posh neighborhood of SF. She was also a Jill of All Trades and knew a little about seemingly everything. She was a graphic designer, massage therapist, artist and tutor. She was smart and funny and beautiful and I envied her individuality and free-spiritedness.
So of course when she asked me to come spend a few months in SF watching her bird while she was on holiday (for 5 weeks), then helping her organize and redecorate, I jumped at the chance. Maybe a new city would motivate me and help me on the road to full recovery from the last year or so. I was so excited!
I arrived in late March, to a few days of acquaintance and organization of caring for the parrot while she was away. I was nervous to be alone in a strange city, but I was still thrilled to be in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’ve never cared for a bird before but figured how hard could it be? I’ve watched cats and dogs before, a bird was basically just another pet but with wings, right? Wrong.
A parrot has a beak and talons. And is basically like a 3-yr old mean, mentally challenged child. She squawks and whistles for your attention and bites when she is agitated. She has to be played with (??) and stroked and made happy or else, this particular bird, could rip out her feathers in anger and bleed to death. Yay! Piece of cake….
The first full week I was so happy to finally be on my own that I didn’t leave the condo. I could finally wallow in my depression and stay in my pajamas all day and cry and watch rom-coms until I wanted to either leave the house or kill myself. I didn’t eat much because I needed to go grocery shopping but was too lazy and discouraged to do so. So the bird became used to me being around all of the time, so when I finally wanted to get out and start meeting people, she cried in protest. I had to bribe her with bread or apples to be able to sneak away while she ate. I also was expected to play music and/or a movie while I was gone for long periods so that she could hear people talking and not be in complete silence. And before I left I had to spend 10-15 solid minutes playing with her. This consisted of putting her on the floor and throwing a spoon that she went nuts for, or keeping her in her cage on her perch and giving her the spoon so that she could throw it at me. I would then give it back to her so she could throw it to me over and over.
Eventually she and I bonded and I got used to her sounds and wants and needs. I was able to leave for several hours at a time to roam about the city and finally was getting my groove. I was getting used to the place and the people and the weather (San Francisco is known for its crazy weather shifts) and finding my foot hold in this crazy world. I was figuring out what I wanted to do with my life and becoming happy again. Or so I thought. After 5 weeks of soul-searching solitude, Karen was returning from her vacation.
I was kind of excited, but also a little resentful that my freedom was coming to an end. Once she came back, I’d have to help her with housework and I wouldn’t have the place to myself anymore. I love people, but sometimes crave alone time to get my bearings. I feared this was going to end.
She has been back for 4 whole days now and I’m absolutely miserable. She’s a crazy hippie bird-lady that talks during movies, asks stupid questions and is kind of conceited. She talks all of the time about herself and is way too much of a free spirit for my sanity. She isn’t Jewish, but likes to sing Jewish songs (in fact, she’s doing it right now in the living room while I type this in my room) , pees with the door open, walks around naked, and is a bit of a neat freak.
Now, I realize that this is her house and she’s just letting me stay here because she needs help so I feel kind of guilty. I feel like I’m living with my aunt again, though this time at least I feel more free to lounge around if I want to. I honestly don’t know why she annoys me so much, because she’ s a really good person with a big heart. Her mothering/nurturing drives me nuts though and I didn’t come here to spend every single second with her. She does give me my free time, but also mentions about 5 times a day how she is so excited to have a roommate to go to local festivals, restaurants and such with her. Why do I fight it so much? She’s just lonely and looking for companionship.
I think she is a bit of a wacko, but she’s also sweet and caring and knows who she is and isn’t afraid to be thought of as a freak (which is evidenced by her dancing in the living room and her strange choice of clothing). Maybe I’m just here to open my mind and stop being so afraid of what I don’t know.
I’m so conflicted!
*name changed
Big Girls Do Cry 