This wasn't the post I was going write today. I was browsing some of my favorite blogs last night and came to this post by Hyperbole and a Half. It had me laughing pretty hard. It even made D laugh when I showed it to him before he went to work today. I have to say it's a honor to make him laugh, it doesn't happen that often. It also reminded him of the same person, the crazy neighbor I mentioned yesterday. We'll call her S and her 18 year old son SH.
So if you haven't clicked over there yet, do so now, then come back here. Pay close attention to level 3 and 4. Really, go there now, I'll wait for you. Then I will tell you my level 5, because S took it to much higher levels. Note the last picture, that's so me back then.
Disclaimer note: I'm not insensitive to people with mental disabilities, I used to work as a nurse and spent a lot of time on dementia units. It's just when the crazy doesn't try to help itself and becomes obtrusive into other peoples lives, I become impatient.
Ok, did you read it and back now? Good. So we started out at level 3 with this person at 4am on the first day. We were very quietly trying to unload the van of the last of our belongings. She and her son live in the one-bedroom 50 feet across from us. Note also, she has a beat up old loveseat on her small patio, facing directly at our door. So, at 4am she comes out to do laundry, which I found to be a bit odd, but maybe that was the only time she had to do it.
She tells me her son is bi-polar and frequently goes off his meds and flips out. Don't flip out and call the cops or the manager like the rest of place did the previous week when he flipped out. I just look at her and say, Ok, well, I used to be a nurse until I became disabled from an injury. Why I said that, I don't know.
Then she tells me that one of her son't Dr's told her she had bi-polar too, but she didn't agree. Do I think she is bi-polar. I answer that I'm not qualified to answer that. She then goes on to tell her life story and I'm standing there freezing. Teeth chattering, and she just keeps talking and talking. It was warm enough for shorts and tank top during the day of packing and moving, but now at 4am it had cooled down to almost freezing. So, I awkwardly respond with, I have Fibromyalgia. I need to go inside and sit down. Sorry, we only have one chair empty.
Over the course of the next few weeks her son's sits on the loveseat and stares at our door. The minute he sees it open he either comes over, or tells him we are up and about and she comes over. Then he will come over and they bicker like children, right there, in MY living room.
D goes out for a job interview and I go with him to the door. She's watching and immediately runs over.
Her: Where's he going?
Me: To a job interview.
Her: (rubbing her face up and down on my screen door making Miss Piggy faces at me) I need to tell you something.
Me: Ok (trying to ignore the fact she is making Miss Piggy face with her nose)
Her: Let me in for just a minute, I don't want anyone to over hear.
Me: (trying to think of something I need to do) I was just going to take a shower.
Her: I'll just be a minute. (Grabbing the handle and opening the door) (Damn, I forgot to turn the lock when I saw her coming)
So she then sits down on my futon and begins telling me her life story. I listen for a bit then tell her, "well, I wanted to take a shower."
Her: Oh, go ahead, I'll just sit here.
Me: No, I'd rather not. I need to be alone.
Her: Why? It's just a shower.
Me: (thinking) It's because of my fibro flaring today. I need to drip dry so I'll walk around naked and don't want anyone to see me.
Her: Why on earth do you need to do that? (looking at me like I'm the strange one)
Me: (thinking fast) The texture of the towel makes my skin hurt, my nerves are hyper-sensitive.
Her: (Squinting at me, like she doesn't believe me.) Well, just let me tell you one more thing.
She goes on to tell me several more things and I get up to use the bathroom. When I come back out she's standing in my dining room area. I look at her.
Me: What are you doing?
Her: How long are you going to keep that ravioli sitting in your cabinet.
Me: (What the hell?!!?)(It bursts out of me) What the hell?!!?
Her: I'm wondering when are you going to eat that ravioli?
Me: (I just can't hold it in) What the hell?!!?
Her: I don't have any food and I'm wondering if you're ever going to eat that ravioli. It's been sitting on your shelf since you moved in. (Obviously she's been peaking my cabinets every time I use the toilet when she is over.)
Me: What the hell?!!? But I give her the ravioli and a couple cans of Spaghettios I had to send her on her way. I make sure to click the lock the second she is out the door. As I stand there with my back against the closed door, my brain, it can't stop. (What the hell?!!?)
After the manager got her to relocate to another complex, I got to meet the other tenants, who had been hiding from her too. I told them that story, plus many others. That one however, they love best. Every once in awhile when they see me, someone will ask. "Hey Denise, just wondering. Did you eat that can of ravioli yet? When are you going to get to that?"
So, I'll leave you with a picture of the pineapple upside down cake, I made over the summer. We used fresh pineapple. Enjoy your day, and I'll back with some crafty, yarny stuff tomorrow.