Sometimes you’re leaning in a doorway, watching a man eat a steak with his pants and boxers around his ankles, and to be polite, you avert your eyes and see a small red Dirt Devil by your side. You ask aloud, “What was that movie called about witches who rode vacuums? With Sarah Jessica Parker, Bette Midler, and some fat, funny woman?” You can’t remember. No one around you can either. The following day you’re still talking about it (with different people) and eventually someone imdbs it and says, “Hocus Pocus.” The wondering is over. All you’re left with are the memories of your own imagined witch life.
1) “Andrea, you ARE a witch. I always hear your voice in my head telling me to do things.”
2) “So…do you typically seduce people in their dreams?”
3) “I just don’t want you to be doing any WITCHERY on me!”
#1 hears a lot of people in her head. I was flattered she was able to single out my voice in her mental chorus of chaos. #3 was a different kind of curiosity, with her own elaborate story, and #2 is a story still being told. The subtle accusations all happened back to back and I started to wonder if I was actually a witch. Could I be a witch without knowing it? Could I have been born a witch? I was so serious that I googled it….
…which means I ended up watching two hours of “X Factor” auditions on youtube.