Saturday, March 08, 2008
When Worlds Collide
Sometimes, just when you think you are at your wits’ end and you really can’t take anything else piled on top of whatever it is you feel trapped under, some dimwit comes along and dumps a little more, just for good measure.
The day was Sunday, and the date was 23 December, two days before Christmas; at 0800 that day, Mother had died. I was a total zombie, and about as grubby as I could be, but I had about 141 things to do that day, including get in the shower and then get dressed and ready to go out – I had a dinner date, and while I was quite sure I wasn’t going to be the life of the party, I still felt I needed to get out and do something. Around 1230 that day, someone rang my doorbell. My first thought was that it must be one of my friends I’d notified about Mother, throwing courtesy to the wind and coming because they thought I needed them. I didn’t want to answer the door because I was seven shades of grubby and grungy, hadn’t even brushed my hair or teeth and was still in my pajamas. Not exactly ready to play "Welcome Wagon" and greet company at the door.
To my utter and everlasting shock and dismay, this moron who said his name was Robert Something-or-other showed up on my doorstep wanting to know some information about my “bad blood” with “the woman who used to be your neighbor”, a/k/a Krazy Kristy. It seems they (it was never clear to me who “they” were) had her on medication and it hadn’t worked, so they were trying to have her put away and they needed some information, but every time I started to tell him anything, he kept talking over me and saying “I know this and I know that”, and finally, after trying twice to get his attention to beg off, I yelled, “Shut the hell up and LISTEN to me! My mother died five hours ago, and I don’t need this! Goodbye!” I slammed the door on him and haven’t heard from him since. My sister suggested later that he might actually have been sent by Kristy just to see what I’d say about her, and I probably should have called the cops. Considering my state of dishabille, and not wanting to entertain the local gendarmerie either in my grubby pajamas and general state or after I had cleaned up and get a lecture on why I should have called them sooner, I didn’t, but I wish I had. If I ever hear from him again, I will. Anyway, whatever this bozo might have expected me to say, I bet that wasn’t it.
Later that evening, my friend and I went out to dinner and then stopped by Walgreens for something (I forget what). I was still quite the walking zombie, and when I encountered a teen-aged girl who kept zigging and zagging and making it nigh onto impossible for me to get around her, her mother said, “Get out of that woman’s way!” The girl did, and then her mother said to her, “Not everybody has the Christmas spirit!” and glared at me. I came to within a hair of yelling at her, “Well, not everybody’s mother died this morning, so go fuck yourself and your Christmas spirit!” Just a friendly reminder that we never know what someone we don’t know (or even someone we do know) is going through when their actions seem thoughtless, inconsiderate or inconsiderate. I tend to be very impatient at times, so I’m making it a point to remember that incident as a reminder of that thought, painful though it may be.
The day was Sunday, and the date was 23 December, two days before Christmas; at 0800 that day, Mother had died. I was a total zombie, and about as grubby as I could be, but I had about 141 things to do that day, including get in the shower and then get dressed and ready to go out – I had a dinner date, and while I was quite sure I wasn’t going to be the life of the party, I still felt I needed to get out and do something. Around 1230 that day, someone rang my doorbell. My first thought was that it must be one of my friends I’d notified about Mother, throwing courtesy to the wind and coming because they thought I needed them. I didn’t want to answer the door because I was seven shades of grubby and grungy, hadn’t even brushed my hair or teeth and was still in my pajamas. Not exactly ready to play "Welcome Wagon" and greet company at the door.
To my utter and everlasting shock and dismay, this moron who said his name was Robert Something-or-other showed up on my doorstep wanting to know some information about my “bad blood” with “the woman who used to be your neighbor”, a/k/a Krazy Kristy. It seems they (it was never clear to me who “they” were) had her on medication and it hadn’t worked, so they were trying to have her put away and they needed some information, but every time I started to tell him anything, he kept talking over me and saying “I know this and I know that”, and finally, after trying twice to get his attention to beg off, I yelled, “Shut the hell up and LISTEN to me! My mother died five hours ago, and I don’t need this! Goodbye!” I slammed the door on him and haven’t heard from him since. My sister suggested later that he might actually have been sent by Kristy just to see what I’d say about her, and I probably should have called the cops. Considering my state of dishabille, and not wanting to entertain the local gendarmerie either in my grubby pajamas and general state or after I had cleaned up and get a lecture on why I should have called them sooner, I didn’t, but I wish I had. If I ever hear from him again, I will. Anyway, whatever this bozo might have expected me to say, I bet that wasn’t it.
Later that evening, my friend and I went out to dinner and then stopped by Walgreens for something (I forget what). I was still quite the walking zombie, and when I encountered a teen-aged girl who kept zigging and zagging and making it nigh onto impossible for me to get around her, her mother said, “Get out of that woman’s way!” The girl did, and then her mother said to her, “Not everybody has the Christmas spirit!” and glared at me. I came to within a hair of yelling at her, “Well, not everybody’s mother died this morning, so go fuck yourself and your Christmas spirit!” Just a friendly reminder that we never know what someone we don’t know (or even someone we do know) is going through when their actions seem thoughtless, inconsiderate or inconsiderate. I tend to be very impatient at times, so I’m making it a point to remember that incident as a reminder of that thought, painful though it may be.
Labels: Nutty Neighbors
# posted by Anne Arky @ 5:00 PM 
