The Community Room

"She what?"

"OMG!"

"Well, they all have a part in this, ya know.  Nosy, Mouthy, Angry."

They feed on one another's chemistry.  They all want to be in charge.  Nose and Mouthy would do anything for you.  Angry would, if it didn't interfer in his day.  Chemistry does that.  Of course, most drones do not know that.  They do, think what they have been taught.  Like all of us.  That is, until the door opens slightly.  They see the light.  Like Plato's Parable Of The Cave.  The age old question. Is it better to be in the dark?

Now we each have to decide whether we are fully ready for the light.  It isn't a judgment.  It is more of a time table.  We progress, regress, time out, progress.  You get the idea.  I've been in the time out, regression mode lately myself.  I think Beth would agree.

"The thing that gets me is that the drama queen doesn't even live here," said Beth.

Her male friend says she doesn't, she says she does.  Their stories differ on everything.  Someone isn't telling the truth here.  But does it matter.  Not one single bit.  It makes for interesting fodder, though.

Truth is apparently subjective.  The common denominator here is self-righteousness.  They are as self-righteous as hell for the most part.  Others come and go.  They can't stand the stuckness.  But they do miss the gossip.  I have to laugh because most of us do, too.  Be honest now.  Do you?

First it was the missing newspaper.  Then the missing figurine. Then lawyer who surrendered his license mysteriously who helps everyone.  The two obese married people one of whom, Nosy. Mouthy is single, too. They spy and report people.  They will also help you if you need it.  They just want to be needed and in charge. Mouthy is hard to take any time unless you can suffer through her shrill voice. She is an in-yer-face Liza Doolittle before the adjustment.  And smart.

Then there is the former tenant found sleeping in the bathrooms at night.  When she was outed, I found her in her car one morning.  I thought she was sick.  She asked me not to out her.  Then it was the old Mercedes conveniently parked here night after night.  The Property Manager refused to call the police on the individual.  She didn't much like her job.  Did the bare minimum.  Smokes like a factory.  Intense.  I liked her immediately.  She is a dowser so there is some kind of energy in her.  She is afraid to say.  Anything.  Keeps to herself.  Doesn't trust a soul.  Something is up. She won't be here long.

Then it was the parade of single men.  Desperate, lonely, poor social skills, obvious.  Dwellers.  Little to offer.  Giving me more than indigestion.  I have lots of ginger tea in the pantry now. The drama queen's male friend is one of them.  So is the Addictor.

But these people aren't less lonely than the 90 percent who don't frequent the Community Room.  They have just built up a chemistry that pulls them in.  It is more than fascinating.

It is The Community Room.  At night.