Who Is This Guy, Anyway???

“I am so happy to find you are still at home, shatzi. Don’t you go out any more?”
“Yes, of course I do. But why are you calling me up now, at this ungodly hour?”
“Yes, again I am doing everything wrong, as I always have.”
“No, mom, this is not what I meant at all.”
“Does it occur to you how long I have been trying to reach you by telephone?”
“Oh, my God, you have been dead for over 28 years now — whose stupid idea of a joke is this, anyway?”
“Oh, putzi, you have never taken your old mother seriously, your long-suffering mother who does everything for you, all day and all night, while all you ever do is to complain about everything.”
“Who the hell is pulling this terrible joke on me? — I’ve had more than enough already.”
“When will you finally learn to respect your hard-working parents, and I think it is now time for a few words from your father, who you can imagine is now very angry about your terrible behavior towards your only mother, who loves you so much while you are still ungrateful after all these years, shatzi.”


[Martin hangs up violently.]

What did I do to deserve this? Everything seemed to be going so nicely, so normally, till I got up again to answer the damn telephone. I wonder if the mail has arrived yet, outside. Oh my god, the weather is totally different from yesterday. Where is the house across the street? And that sign over there, why can’t I read what it says in that weird alphabet? Time to close the door and collect myself.

What was I doing last, before things began to make less sense? The dentist yesterday did not look quite the same as usual, but that seemed okay, and I vividly recall how impressed I was with his entirely new equipment with which he was examining me so closely. He seemed rightly impressed with himself, especially with that new bulb he said he himself invented that creates darkness where there was light before. I still cannot understand how that let him see anything that was happening in my widely open mouth, but I guess that this is his own professional problem, and certainly not mine.

And what was I about to do today, before all this nonsense happened? Oh yes, let us see what happens when I finally remove the bottom panel of my upright piano. I want to see if I left that damned missing genealogical document down in there before making that long move from there to here nine years ago. Here’s hoping.