87. I’m Molly Goldberg not Joan Baez

Something happened last night and I can’t figure out why I found it unsettling.

I was at Liz’s house when David mentioned that he ran into our neighbor from upstairs in the elevator. She’s a lovely woman with a very nice husband and 2 small children. They live right above me.

Her kids really like me because I always tell them they can make as much noise as they want when their mother tells them they have to be quiet  out of consideration for me.

I always felt that if you insist on quiet you should live in the suburbs.

Anyway David said that she mentioned that she hadn’t seen him and Liz or me and dave in awhile.

He said “dave? He ran away with another woman to Japan.”

If there’s an offensive way to say something David can hone onto it in a second.

He said she was really shocked and then she said something strange, “Were they married?”

Liz and I gave each other puzzled looks.

The only thing I can figure is that since she knew dave was a musician (she had asked me if he’d make a demo for her because she liked to sing), she thought we were hippies or something.

I don’t know what bothered me so much about this.

Was it David’s stupid way of depicting my situation? How can you be mad at a frog for being a frog?

Was it my neighbor’s thinking that I wasn’t married?

Was it just one more of those boxes that I keep in my head that burst open without my being ready for it?

Whatever it was I took a tranquilizer before I went to sleep and slept like a baby. A married baby.

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