Crazy Cora

So my brother and I, with the help of our father, purchased this old house and began an ambitious remodeling project. It was tiring, difficult work that has since yielded pleasant rewards. But this is not about that project. This is another curiosity, but more than just a sighting, it is an experience.

The experience was a woman who showed up late one night just as we were finishing up. I don't recall her real name, only that by the end of the night I was thinking of her as 'Crazy Cora' ala Quigley Down Under. She wore this truly bizarre wide-brimmed hat with a funny hole at the very top and pins scattered over it. She had bright little eyes that darted here and there, flickering with a kind of fevered intensity. Thirty seconds after meeting her, I knew she was one odd duck. She claimed to own a house just down the way, nearly identical to ours in layout and structure. She wanted to come in and see our progress, which we granted.

Her age was difficult to guess. Certainly older than 50, but just how much older was anyone's guess. She had this crazed kind of youth in her eye and the way she moved suggested boundless energy. She talked incessantly, barely giving us a chance to explain our decisions. She was friendly and kind, never critical, but almost manic in her chatter. She told us about the neighborhood - she was a history buff and knew the stories behind all the old houses in the area. Ours was built in 1906, she said. It was interesting information to hear, but her twitchy, fast-paced manner accessorized with that otherworldly hat made the teller more distracting than the story.

And then she asked us what we were going to do about doors.

"Doors?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes," she replied, "Because the doors that used to be in this house were terrible, as I'm sure you know since you've obviously gotten rid of them. I can help you out in replacing them. I collect doors you see-"

Yes. You read right. A collector of doors. Of course the image that sprang to mind was one complimentary of Monsters Inc: a warehouse filled with thousands of doors. It was so fantastic I laughed. She didn't notice and continued on, telling me that she went to dumps and landfills and people's dumpsters collecting all kinds of doors. She was certain, she told me, that she had just the right size doors for our tall narrow frames.

I thanked her and promised to call if we decided we needed them. She left us with promises to stop by again, scampering off like a little field mouse.

As she left I got this spreading warmth inside - the glow of knowing I'd just met a truly interesting person. I've yet to see her again, much to my regret. It is so much better to be a Crazy Cora than a Normal, don't you think?