When The Lettuce Turns

There’s an Italian expression my grandmother liked, when lettuce ceases to be edible…fachadda...meaning, the leaves are dead, shriveled…salad history, if you will.

I had a week that left me, let’s just say, fachadda, in every area.

It began with a job…a good one, money wise, but it’s theme…CANCER…which is like winning a cruise aboard the Titanic.

I had to pretend to be a woman on her way out with waxed eyebrows and head scarves, IVs and a husband who was already mentally making funeral arrangements.

Yes, I’ll repeat, the pay was good, but at great emotional cost.

I came home after two days so down and dazed, I couldn’t even eat.  I thought of all the people who actually go through this, feeling terribly humbled…incredibly guilty to be able to just pretend.

Then I get an email with photos a girl took of me.  Someone I’ve been very kind and supportive of, that made me look as if I truly had cancer.

“Did you bother to even remotely retouch these, even a little?” I asked her, more than a bit bewildered.

“Oh, I worked on them for an hour.”

“An hour?  Was the TV on?  Were you also ironing and having sex?  Excuse me, while I bind the bullet wound you’ve just inflicted.”

I looked like Georgia O’Keefe, just with gloss.

When I finally took my head out of the oven, I donned a pair of shorts to venture to the park where hopefully the green would comfort and soothe, not to mention put all this into prospective, when I find a note stuck in my door from my new neighbor.

They finally, after a year, rented Mimi’s apartment, to a young couple with two small children.  I had met the husband earlier in the week, inviting him in for a cup of coffee. His missus with their little girls had yet to arrive, so I was more than happy to be simply neighborly.

The note said…are you sitting down?

Stay away from my husband or I will contact management.

I read it three times to make sure I got it right.  Suddenly I’m Mrs. Robinson with a Mellita.

First cancer, then a face like a map that could lead you out west, and now a threat from a woman I hadn’t met yet.

I don’t even know how to end this except to say,  I just hope your week was a whole lot better than mine.

SB

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Beauty, grace, Health, humanity, modeling, women and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

28 Responses to When The Lettuce Turns

  1. As my mother would say, “Sure it could be worse, and there’s always someone worse off!” And you’ve basically a full day for something good to happen!

    Like

  2. Yikes! Perhaps where they come from (the new couple) women don’t talk to “spoken for” men. In a sense sit contradicts all the rest that happened because she must think you are pretty damn attractive.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. edwardcres says:

    Pardon me while I retrieve my chin which just dropped into the friggin’ basement!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. The nerve! You extended hospitality, and she slapped you in the face. If she knew how kind you are, she would be sheepishly ashamed. I hope she makes amends and quickly comes to value you as an excellent neighbor.

    Liked by 1 person

    • We have yet to meet. She’s very young. That’s all I know. We shall see…more will be revealed. It’s kinda funny when you think about it.

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      • It’s amusing in a way, but I find it mostly inexcusable. I don’t want ANYONE being ugly to you.

        Liked by 1 person

      • You’re so funny. The husband is all of 30 who on moving day, wore a three piece suit. So sweet and well mannered. She must have some serious issues to pen a note like that. I’m right across the hall so she can’t escape me totally. And when I heard they had 2 little girls, I was already stuffing stockings in my head. I will be the more evolved party and try to mend fences. Thanks. You’re always so kind. 🙂

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  5. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, one of life’s annoyances is getting a bad neighbor. She must make his life a living hell. I wonder how long the marriage will last. Unless he’s a little mouse too afraid to squeak. Possessiveness is not a healthy trait.
    I’m sorry you had such a stressful week. Just remember that ‘tomorrow is another day.’

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  6. oh my word!!!! I am speechless, especially about your neighbor. I cannot figure people out, ever. That is rude and I would be so mad I would be shaking from a note like that. I am sorry you had a rough week. I hope this week will be much better for you. Think of you often.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. My goodness, Susannah, that is a perfect storm of things to get you down. I just hope your next upcoming work proportionately wonderful. I can imagine how draining that would be even to play someone with cancer. I hope your next job is more upbeat. Hopefully you can also smooth things over with the neighbor woman. Eep.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. How could it not be? lol Though, I must say that sleep-wise, it has been dreadful. My daughter took me to a movie/meal Sunday for Father’s Day and then to her house for supper with her husband’s family. I fell asleep on the drive to the theater, twice during the movie, then couldn’t sleep until almost 9am the Today. It has been a day of feeling ill without being ill. Just now, at 10:25pm, feeling pretty decent.
    Scott

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I completely understand that feeling, and it’s very real. Hopefully, since this was posted that feeling has passed and things are looking up.
    As for the new neighbor, bitch please don’t pack your insecurities and bring them to NYC.

    Liked by 1 person

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