Apparently, I wrote this on 10/23/08 at 12:56 and called it "I'm dying" I have no recollection of it, though I guess it sounds like me?

Eloise Dromberg sat in her dark living room with her cat Oswald. She sat on a plush chair that was once a bold crimson. Decades of cat hair, cigarette smoke and dust had turned the chair to a dingy rust. Eloise spent most of her waking hours on the chair with Oswald. A woman named Bonnie prepared Eloise's meals, did the cleaning and mailed the bills. She was paid well, though never saw or spoke to her employer. When the two had reason for correspondance, they exchanged letters. Eloise wrote in proper cursive on fine stationary. Bonnie scribbled responses on whatever she could find.

Dear Bonnie,
I would like a medium rare steak with new potatoes. No salt. I can't have salt. Last time you put salt on the potatoes and my ankles swelled. I couldn't wear my house slippers and my feet got cold. Poor Oswald had to sit on my feet and then he got cold. It was a horrid mess.
Thank you, dear.
-Ms. Dromberg

(on the gas bill)
Sorry, Mrs. Dromberg. No salt.

Dear Bonnie,
I left seven dollars on the dining room table. I would like two books of logic puzzles and two scratch-off lottery games. If there is money left for Chap Stick, I would like that, too.
Thank you, dear.
-Ms. Dromberg

(On a cereal box top) Here you go, Ms. Dromberg. Seven cents back.

Eloise Dromberg had become, much to her chagrin, the old lady in the neighborhood whom the children feared. They dared each other to touch her front door and camped out on her lawn on halloween, until fear took over and they'd flee to the safety of a backyard.



1/22 - from a bed that's not mine - edit
Eloise Dromberg sat in her dark living room with her cat Oswald. She sat on a plush chair that was once a bold crimson, but decades of cat hair, cigarette smoke and dust had turned the chair to a dingy rust. Eloise spent most of her waking hours on the chair with Oswald. A woman named Bonnie prepared Eloise's meals, did the cleaning and mailed the bills. She was paid well, though never saw or spoke to her employer. When the two had cause for correspondence, which was as often as one would think, they exchanged letters. Eloise elegantly, in cursive, on fine stationary. Bonnie scribbled responses on whatever she could find.


Dear Bonnie,
I would like a medium rare steak with new potatoes. No salt. I can't have salt. Last time you put salt on the potatoes and my ankles swelled. I couldn't wear my house slippers and my feet got cold. Poor Oswald had to sit on my feet and then he got cold. It was a horrid mess.
Thank you, dear.
-Ms. Dromberg


(on the gas bill)
Sorry, Mrs. Dromberg. No salt.


Dear Bonnie,
I left seven dollars on the dining room table. I would like two books of logic puzzles and two scratch-off lottery games. If there is money left for Chap Stick, I would like that, too.
Thank you, dear.
-Ms. Dromberg


(On a cereal box top) Here you go, Ms. Dromberg. Seven cents back.



Eloise Dromberg had become, much to her chagrin, the old lady in the neighborhood whom the children feared. They dared each other to touch her front door and camped out on her lawn on Halloween, until fear took over and they'd flee to the safety of a familiar backyard.

It was a Tuesday morning in April, rainy and colder than it should be, when Eloise Dromberg asked Oswald a simple question, “Is this broach busy?” As she waited for the reply that couldn’t possibly come - for the simple reason that cats have no eye for accessories and are also unable to speak - Eloise began to cry.

Eloise cried rarely. Generally, she required a sad book or movie to unlock the things that should easily have made her cry – the photograph of her mother as a girl which she’d lost on a train, the time beautiful Thomas with the hazel eyes and soft face told her, cruelly, that he hadn’t ever really loved her, the loss of Oswald’s mother, whose name was also Oswald.

It was startling to both Eloise and her cat that she should now be sobbing, quite uncontrollably without aid.