Drawing the line.

Most people who choose to live here during the months that are not June, July or August have to get creative when it comes to making a living. That includes those of us with college degrees.

For about a month now I have been doing some errands, grocery shopping etc., for an elderly woman. Yesterday, I was out and about getting lunch for her and her live-in nurse and was being bombarded with phone calls from the nurse with various requests. Can you get some bananas? Sure. Can you get me 3 coconut macaroons? No problem. Two gallons of milk? You got it. Can you get me a baked potato and a do-it-yourself perm kit? Wait a second. Where am I supposed to get a baked potato?

During this succession of requests she slipped in a casual, “oh and can you pick me up a feminine wash?” Sure thing. I just wanted to get off the phone. And then I started to think, a feminine wash? What is that? And then very slowly... painfully, almost excruciatingly slowly, I realized that the nurse was asking me to buy her a douche.

First and foremost I called Adam, who made no attempt whatsoever to muffle his laughter. He also launched into a lengthy explanation about the risks of douching, but before I let myself think too deeply about why he even has this information, I had to remind him that I was not the one in the market for a douche or a do-it-yourself perm kit for that matter.

At first I had no intention of buying this “feminine wash” for her. I thought that I would make a silent yet strong statement in my refusal. Something like do not EVER ask me to buy you DOUCHE ever, ever again.

But then after trying 4 different places for the perm kit, I started to feel bad for the nurse. She is stuck in the house all day, she has no freedom and no escape and she can’t even perm her hair. The guilt got worse and worse so while in the grocery store (which was blissfully vacant) I went ahead and casually threw a box of Massengill in my basket. Then I made a bee-line to the register, pretended to be looking for something in my wallet when the cashier rang in the douche and thanked god that I didn’t see anyone I knew.

The douche, by the way, only cost $2.49, making it the most inexpensive commodity on this entire island. Which leads me to wonder if they just give douche away on the mainland?

Back at the house, as I unpacked the groceries the nurse immediately informed me that I got the wrong douche as well as the wrong Lysol. A little while later she let me know that her sandwich sucked to boot.

For reasons that I still don’t quite understand, I left that house, douche and the Lysoln in hand, with a halfhearted promise to exchange them for the preferred “cleaners”.

I still have both the douche and the Lysol. It takes a great deal of audacity to walk into a grocery store (on an island where everyone knows everyone) and try to exchange a douche. I guess I am not audacious enough. But I hate to see anything go to waste so I am trying to convince Adam to take the Massengill with him to his friend's house on Sunday (for the Superbowl) and nonchalantly leave it in the bathroom, just to see what happens. The Lysol I am keeping for myself.

For those of you still wondering, I haven’t decided whether or not I will buy the feminine wash for the nurse. It would probably be the nice thing to do, but it might also be my chance to draw that line. My decision depends heavily on the tone she uses with me next time we talk. That and whether or not she gets her hair permed.