A blog I follow regularly has a recent entry about relaxation. The writer discusses how there are some things we do that we completely lose ourselves in and think of nothing else except that which we’re doing. If you suffer from the mind that never stops syndrome like the blog writer and myself, it’s kinda cool when you actually find something to do that absorbs you to this degree (she’s yet to find it, I’m pleased I have). I accidently found it photographing abandoned buildings. Photography has always absorbed me but never to the point where I’m oblivious to not only my incessant chatterbox of a mind, but also to what’s going on around me.

I was lost in this nowhere kind of land when our Bennett School visitors intruded upon my solitude. I was deeply engaged with a door. I have chair, door (usually red), window (usually broken) and spooky hallway fetishes. So I was pretty preoccupied, with this door (and it wasn’t red), when they came along. I was in the wing of the main building in what I think was once the kitchen — it was very burnt out so it was hard to tell.

I had lost track of my exploring partner. I had no idea where she was, and didn’t really care. Remember from my last post she was decidedly cranky with me for even being inside the school, so it was one of those times when I really didn’t mind not knowing her whereabouts — I’d hear her scream if she needed me—and if it was really serious I may even help her rather than laugh at her as I’m inclined to do.

I wasn’t laughing, however, when I saw two people appear out of nowhere in a doorway about 100 feet away. The first thought that crossed my mind was where the hell is she when I need her. Luckily I didn’t need her. Our visitors were two very sweet young women— sisters. They called out nervously to me, “are you a friendly” (I felt like I was in a sci-fi movie), I remember thinking — a what?

Turns out the elder of the two is a local fire fighter and she was showing her younger sister, from out of state, her favorite spooky place. If the truth were told she was probably trying to scare her little sister half to death as I did to mine (frequently) when we were little. They both had cameras with them, and were as relieved as I was that we were all, in fact, “friendlies.” My absent-when-needed exploring partner eventually appeared after hearing voices—only deciding to enter the conversation when she could tell by my tone of voice that I wasn’t in any danger. Now had I have been in danger I probably wouldn’t have laid eyes on her, which is incredibly reassuring.

Our newly found companions spent the rest of the afternoon with us. As I said they were very sweet, but my god they could talk. Or rather my exploring partner and the eldest of the two could talk. My deeply treasured solitude, lost-in-the-moment state of mind became but a distant memory — it was my turn to get cranky— and I did. Why? One, because of the incessant chatter (even worse than my mind) and two, because our “friendly” local fire fighter was full of dire warnings and “don’t do it” advice about our next stop — Hudson Valley Psychiatric.

Now, really, think about it. Wouldn’t you be a little cranky? I had one hell of a time getting my companion into the Bennett School. She’s tired; we’re both on our last legs because we’ve taken on too much in one trip. I have a one-track mind — I want a Kirkbride (Hudson Valley), and I'll keep going until I physically fall down and can't go on anymore, and I want every one of the places we've planned — and now I have a very sweet, very knowledgeable, very concerned young woman telling us under no circumstances must we attempt our last stop. Arggghhhhh.

I have a theory about our visitors…I’ll get to that next time.