BOOM! . . .

I hate it when my worlds collide. It's been happening more and more lately, and so I'm getting used to it by fiat, but it's still unnerving. But I find that it's most unnerving when one world collides with itself. What do I mean? Case in point:

Flacon and I hang out in similar places: bookstores, cafes, outdoor venues when it's nice and dry out. That's all fine and good when we hang out in these places together on purpose, OR when he's at his place and I'm at mine and never the 'twain shall meet. Besides, I have this weird thing about this sort of hanging out. I like to go to get a cup or two of hot beverage, set up my computer and journal and book and iPod, kick off my shoes, then lean back and people watch or daydream or even fall asleep for the next few hours. One can really only do this alone. If you take someone along with you, you gotta worry about things like "is he annoyed that I kicked my shoes off" or "does it bug him that I shift in my seat so often" or "I hope he doesn't mind that I need to lip-synch to this song" or "is he grossed out that I'm rubbing my nose and itching just inside the nostril without completely picking my nose." And once you get worrying about such things, the afternoon is shot, it really is. There is no relaxation to be had; no enjoyable people-watching to be done; no carefree nose-picking to indulge in.

So it's been peachy, talking to Flacon about my places and me hearing about his places. But then this afternoon, I rolled into what I consider my place (given that I took up residence in this county and all) and LO! He was there. At my table, no less, soaking up the heat from my forcefully hot heater, and surrounded by my neighborhood weirdos. What is a creature of habit to do?

Well, my parents raised me to be a good girl, so I said hello, then walked away before I would be forced to engage in awkward "hey, what are YOU doing here?" conversation. I settled in at a new table -- oh, the heartbreak -- and went about my business, and was pleased to discover that I am as good at ignoring as I am at being ignored. I mean, have you seen me zone out? I turn it into an art form, and it's exactly what got me through college and law school, and the skill serves me well to this day.

But then, I suddenly felt awkward. For one thing, I'm in quite a mood lately, plus I was listening to a very sad song, and then I received a very kind email from someone with whom I have not really been on speaking terms since two Novembers ago ... so I started weeping. Just a little bit, and not totally hysterically. I mean, I wasn't snotting all over the place, and I only needed one tissue to contain the mess, but still: weeping is weeping. And I don't care if I weep in front of strangers -- they can think I'm crazy or manic-depressive or just extremely emotive. But to weep in front of Flacon? At my place? Oh, the embarrassment ... I could hardly stand it.

He eventually had to move tables -- after all, the heat from my heater was starting to become too much for him. So he swung by my completely small and deficient table to say hi; we shot the breeze; we made fun of each other in the way that we do; he went to the bathroom while I charged his computer; I went to the bathroom while he probably sabotaged some belonging of mine and left it for me to discover later on; then he hied himself off to a cooler table. I resumed zoning, bopping my head to the music, reading, writing, and sigh, weeping.

It was comic relief to leave. I would have stayed all night if I had to, probably just to prove a point, but also because the crowd was just starting to get interesting -- have you seen high school kids get tutored by knuckleheaded tutors lately?! -- but alas, I had to leave. As I drove away, I had to chuckle, though. It's alright that my place is no longer mine. We can share it, I suppose. After all, the more time that passed, the less I cared that he was all up in my business, and the only thing I really worried about was "I hope he doesn't see me picking my nose." Alright! I admit it! I pick my nose in public! But sometimes, you just need to.

Besides, it's not like I can stay away, just because his place and my place ran into each other. I'm only one drink away from the requisite ten drinks needed to get a free coffee ....