Dizzy is as Dizzy Does

One of the residents at the shelter popped into my head today and I don't know why so I'm going to tell you about her. Now, I don't usually get shocked or surprised by too much at all; I generally just take things as they come and write them off as human nature. This girl, though, was a little...no, a lot...odd; I'll call her J.

J lived in a room on the upper level with her daughter and I've mentioned her before. She's the one who talked to me when she first got to the shelter telling me she'd heard about me; said she'd heard I thought I owned the place and all that. She hung out with Cathy and Marcy most of the time so I didn't really pay much attention to her but when she was alone it was hard not to pay attention to her. She was really weird.

L and I could be talking and J would just walk up to us and start talking about her boyfriend and how she was going to make him buy her a laptop for her birthday; or she'd tell us about her family's cigarette business out on the reservation. It's not weird conversation mind you, just really odd the way she'd bring it up out of the blue.

When we'd respond to her J would just stand and stare at us like she was looking right through us, like she was suddenly not there in mind at all. She'd stand with her cigarette in her hand and a smile on her face just saying "uh huh" while she nodded. Then she'd just suddenly walk away in the middle of the conversation. I wasn't the only one who noticed, either; J was a great source of amusement for those of us who weren't with her a lot.

One day I walked into the kitchen to get something and Marcy was in there with J. J wanted to make a box of au gratin potatoes for her daughter but didn't know how. I didn't see how difficult it was considering the directions are on the box. Anyway, Marcy just looked at me with that knowing look; her eyes said, "This chick is a dizbo," and it took all my energy not to laugh out loud. I took the box from J and showed her where the directions were on the box. She was amazed.

I read them with her and even told her how to make them. She didn't like the fact that she had to add milk because her baby couldn't eat dairy. She decided to use water instead. Um, yuck; but, whatever. Then she said she didn't know how to measure out the water because there was supposed to be a cup or so of milk. I reached in the drawer and pulled out the measuring cup that was there for anyone to use. J almost fell over; she'd seen it before but had no clue what it was used for. Seriously? Marcy was staring in awe, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She even commented that she might have to take it with her when she left the shelter - she was planning on moving back with her family at the end of the week.

I shook my head and got J squared away with the directions for the potatoes; and she was so excited that she was actually going to cook something. She looked like she was going to jump for joy. I had to leave before I laughed in her face. I gave one last glance at Marcy and was on my way, out to the yard to clear my head of the stupidity I'd just witnessed. I don't know how the potatoes turned out and I didn't care, I was just glad to be done with her.

Later in the week, after she'd left, Marcy and I looked in her room. I don't know if you remember, or if I've even told you, that we had a bad mouse problem in the shelter; mice everywhere. We found out why. J's room had food all over the place: half-empty snack packages she'd given to her daughter who'd spilled them and left them on the floor, juice boxes that had been stepped on and left to dry on the floor, and loads of other things. Not to mention the fact that she'd been smoking in her room and had left cups filled with water and cigarette butts. That had nothing to do with the mice, it was just disgusting.

We also noticed that she'd cut the cord to the lamp in the room. I'm not kidding. The lamps we had were attached to the wall and the cord hung down to the outlet. She'd actually plugged out the lamp and cut the cord off about six inches from the bottom. We were dumbfounded. And to make matters worse, or rather, to add to the humor of it all, I went into the kitchen to make dinner and went looking for the measuring cup. It was gone. I kid you not. She'd actually taken it with her. Marcy, L, and I busted out laughing and couldn't stop. Holy shit.

J was one of the oddest people I've ever met in my life. I feel bad for her daughter having to grow up with a mother who's such a ditz. Maybe it was just an act, I don't know and will never know for sure. I do know that, while she was a resident at PRD, I got a lot of pleasure out of just watching her and talking to her. I know it's not nice to laugh at people but if you'd met her you'd have laughed too. There was no way not to; she was the epitome of an airhead, almost in the literal sense.

Until next time...peace to all.