A day with no responsibility. None. A day to myself. All done with everything. Only me to look after. I slept in. I got up went to church with Tim. Stopped at PDQ on the way home to get a sammich (with grease) and a muffin to go with the sunday paper. Came back to a wonderfully cool house, put on some comfy bed shorts, opened the curtains and read in bed — read and read until I got sleep and then I took a long nap. Then I woke up later, and read a bit more, then took another nap. Eventually I did get up…poured myself some ice coffee and watched TV while deciding I hated my most recent piece of beadwork and started to take it apart.
I did some weights and crunchs, watched the 4400 and made a grocery list. Then we went shopping. IT was a very expensive outing — 170!!! But we haven’t really gone for two to three months — there was a alot of restocking I had to — vanilla, sugars, sryup, dressing, soups, canned items, pasta — you get the drift.
We came home and brought the first load of stuff into the house. DH was a head of me and he was leaning over reading something. I smiled and asked “What did Laima bring over now?” [I like your suprises Laima]
“I don’t think it’s from Laima,” he replied. “I think it’s from your new friend.”
I felt a chill and resisted the urge to look around the dark street for signs of her watching me. My new friend is a woman who stopped by the garage sale the previous Thursday. She took a long time looking at items and then when she came to pay she took an even longer time leaving. She sat down and started to tell me …. as if we were having a conversation already, things. She started in the middle of a story. As if we knew each other. She told me how she likes to find the humor in things and then give me examples of horrible things — that had no humor. Unless, of course you understood that she believed you must suffer, and that suffering is the humor.
TO be honest, I didn’t understand her. I tried too. I couldn’t follow her way of thinking. Often I was too distracted by her buckteeth that would become covered in foam within moments of her talking. That was all she did. Talk. She talked so fast, and so long, and prayed for Roberta to hurry the hell back so I could make and excuse and leave. I was unresponsive. I looked away often and tried to be busy in something else, but it was all to no avail because she kept talking. Eventually I was parched, she wasn’t leaving and I didn’t want to be outright rude and take the money box with me inside the house, as I refilled my cup. So I asked her if she wanted some crystal light.
“Sure. Okay. Whatever.” She responded before launching into her next thesis.
I brought it out as fast as I could because I didn’t trust her. She took it. Drank it. Sat back down and continued talking. I started to feel a little nervous. How was I going to get rid of her?
Eventually Roberta did return. She walked in, said she was going to use the bathroom, came back and sat down. I leaped at my chance “Uh, I need to use the bathroom too.”
I went to the bedroom, logged on the computer and started to chat with Hilary. I wasn’t feeling good. This woman’s negative energy sucked my soul dry. Hilary asked about the crazy lady who turned her stomach with one phrase. I guessed the phrase immediately — “I didn’t want him to live there and stuff himself inside of me whenver he wanted.”
*shudder* That has been the crudest thing I have ever heard. Ever.
Anyway, so long story short. I didn’t go back out. I couldn’t get the will to do it. I tried but ended up taking a nap. After an hour I forced myself to the door –right after i got a drink of water. Then Roberta came in and told me she asked the woman to leave.
I was SO relieved and happy. I knew Roberta would do what I could not. Roberta told the woman that she wasn’t interested in having a coversation with anyone, she just wanted someone to dump all her problems on, and that she would like her to leave. She asked her six times to leave – all ignored by the woman, until she finally had to stand up and shout “I want you to leave. You are not making me feel good. Please go!”
THEN, the woman says, “Oh, I’m sorry….” and leaves.
An hour later, I was back out sitting in the garage with Roberta chatting — and I saw her ride by with her daughter and wave. I didn’t wave. I never asked her name, and she certainly never asked mine. I don’t know who she is. I don’t care too.
Well, later on that night, after we closed up shop and I was dicking around on the computer, I thought I heard a knock. I crept down the hallway and caught a flash of pink through the cinderblock glass. Pink. She was wearing pink. With super caution, I peeked over the window and saw a stupid looking 10 or 11 year old girl and her mother — that woman. I slowly backed away and watched as she left, looking confused.
The next day I had to work, and afterward I shopped on State Street for Maxwell street days — I pretty much missed most of the garage sale. I came back in time to help Roberta pack up. She informed me that the woman stopped by again that day with her daughter and son. The bought stuff, and Roberta never gave the woman a chance to start talking. I was glad I wasn’t there.
Saturday it was crazy woman free. It was also the end of the sale. I was SO happy to finally be finished with it.
Tonight, on the top stoop was a container of generic crystal light and a hand written note scrawled on a piece of ripped, lined paper.
“Thanks for the Crystal Light and conversation. You made my son, daugther and my day during a rough spot. I thought that you might enjoy this drink mix.”
Can anyone guess how much I am NOT enjoying this drink mix? Anyone?
I made Tim pick it up. I imagined she was out in the dark, watching me. So far I have been lucky in avoiding her. But if she keeps this up, there is going to come a day where I have to say something. I have been rehearsing what I will say in my head, but they aren’t nice things.
“I don’t see us becoming friends. We have nothing in common. We do not even know each other names. My friend card if full. Good luck finding some other sucker. Go away. I am allergic to crazy…..etc.”
But I would be a liar if I didn’t say that I hate this position I am. I feel stalked.