Always Stories…

The moaner is back outside my apartment. This is what I now call the maintence guy who was outside my bedroom window on the day they replaced my AC system. (if you got all the way through that blog you know what i’m talking about). This time he’s outside my living room window. Its 7:40am, and I have opened up my living room windows to enjoy the morning air, and while watching the Today Show, and accidentally made eye contact with him when he came next to the window. 

I didn’t mean to, but when I saw movement outside I glanced out, then immediately glanced away to avoid giving the impression I wanted to interact. My apartment is a ground floor corner unit, next to the mailboxs and the car wash. I have big windows in my living room that face the corner, and so I have a lot of traffic past my windows. When I have the blinds open, its kind of like sitting outside, and a lot of peopole feel comfortable talking to me through the screens. Even when I show no signs of welcome. Because I’m not on a porch, or sitting on my stoop. I’m INSIDE. And I feel like people should respect the screen barrier and pretend like they can’t see me. Its what I would if the circumstances were reversed.

Aparently that’s just me.

When I glanced away from him without acknowleding him, he gave a big old moan to get my attention. I think he meant it to be like a “phew boy, i’m sure tired from working the last 10 minutes…” kind of moan, but to me it was a “i’m lame and don’t know the appropriate way to say good morning, and have no respect for personal boundaries” kind of moan.

But maybe I just don’t speak moan very well.

The new AC unit has been installed. They moved my dresser back to its original place so it’s now covering the spot where I believe the wood rot was…or is… I haven’t turned off the air freshner yet to see if the change did the trick. I’m afraid. What if the smell isn’t gone? What if I have to call up my landlord and argue the whole wood rot/something living in my AC vents idea again? Besides, I’m starting to get used to the smell of the chemical pineapples…

This afternoon, I sat on the floor of my bedroom to put on my sneakers and I think I smelled a vaguely musty, ammonia-y smell lurking below the chemical pineapples… (and no it wasn’t my sneakers). But I couldn’t bring myself to investigate…i just finished putting on my sneakers and left.

Plus I need some recovery time from the trauma of having the workers in here before I start contemplating next steps IF the smell is still there. … Ok, maybe “trauma” overstates it a little…but well…here’s the story of that day.

I was told that workers would be here at 9:30am to install the new AC unit.  So I planned to be showered and dressed and hopefully out of the apartment by 9:15 (my apartment is way too small to be here with…well, other people, but particulary big men moving large pieces of machinery around).

 At 8:30 I finished my shower, and wandered into the bedroom to watch TV while I combed out my mop of tangled hair.  So I’m standing there, naked, and I suddenly l hear male voices right outside my bedroom window. The window was open but the blinds were closed, but they are just cheap venitian blinds, so I felt very exposed. I grabbed a robe and ran into the bathroom to finish combing my hair, and decide what I wanted to wear that day (a long process that normally involves multiple trips between my dresser and my closet contemplating various pieces of clothing.)

I go back into my room to grab the clothes I had decided on, and hear the men outside the window again, except this time it not talking, its heavy breathing and gutteral grunts and occasional moans. I tell myself its the workmen, and not creepy, but it kind of is.

After 3 trips between my bedroom and bathroom to change various pieces of my outfit (mental picture is always so different than what I see in the mirror), I was dressed, but the guy was still moaning and groaning outside my window. My cell phone rang and I went out to the living room to answer it. It was the apartment management company confirming that I’d gotten the message that they would be there at 9:30.

“I got the message…” I glance back at my bedroom wondering…

“Great. So i just wanted to let you know we’re still planning to be there at 9:30, although we might be a few minutes late, will that be ok?”

“That would be fine…but…”

“Great. See you then.” and he hung up. And I was left wondering why I didn’t say “If you aren’t coming until 9:30, who the hell is breathing heavily outside my window?

I wondered back into my bedroom and heard one guy say to the other guy “its for the air return, that’s where the air comes into the unit,” which re-assured me they were workmen. But still…

I grabbed my stuff and hightailed it out of there for the day.

When I got home in the evening, I immediately started to do a compulsive inventory of “things that were different” in my apartment. IE – things they had touched. I don’t know why I do this, I’m not really that OCD, but I just have to do this everytime I know someone has been in my space. 

My desk chair is pushed aside, there are indentationsin the carpet in the hallway, a gash in the doorframe to the bedroom, and a mountain dew can on my nightstand. This freaks me out. This is gross and it feels too…personally associated with the strange men to be so close to my bed… But i fight the panic, grab the can and toss it in the kitchen garbage. I return to my room to finish the inventory and see…something on my bed, something that looks like…a grey t-shirt…thrown on the bed. I look closer in the gloom of the evening light- (I’ve turned the light on, but I have the wrong kind of eco-friendly bulb in and it takes like 10 minutes to warm up to full glow, so at this point its like standing in the dark). I feel the panic rise as I realize that I don’t own a grey t-shirt like the one on my bed.

“Holy shit,” I suddenly think,”did one of the workers take his shirt off and leave it on my bed? That is so not ok”. The panic is getting worse. I think ”I have to report this, but I have to get it off the bed, which means I have to touch it. What if its gross and sweaty, what if my bed smells?” I feel myself on the verge of a complete melt down, all steming back to The Smell. That goddamn smell is ruining my life.

I’m taking deep breaths standing in the doorway, trying to focus on the problem at hand, when the light starts to get stronger. And something tickles my unconscious and I take another look at the article of clothing on the bed.  And I think, “maybe it isn’t a grey t-shirt…” and the light gets stronger, and I can see the item even better and realize its my lavendar linen shirt. I start to relax, and then I think “Wait! I never wear that! Why is it out? OH MY GOD, they were in my closet!!”

And then I remember.

It was one of the options I tried on and discarded that morning.

I seriously don’t know when I became such a nut ball.

Seriously.

I have a coffee shop stalker. He’s not my first stalker, but he’s the first to exist only in a public place. And its a public place I love. A place that has free wi-fi, awesome coffee, lots of tables. I love to come here with my lap top and work for hours. I especially love when I can come here and do creative work, like writing, instead of boring client work. And now i have a stalker. Its been building for a while. I mostly see him later in the day, like after normal work hours. And he’s usually wearing dress pants and a dress shirt, so I assume he has a normal job. So stalking is just a hobby at this point. He first started coming in about a year ago, and he would hover in the middle of the shop until I’d look up at him and then he’d smile. I started with a half-hearted smile, not wanting to encourage him (and no he’s not cute, he’s old and he’s creepy. )

About three months ago, he sat down at a table next to me, and I very carefully kept my eyes on my computer, and I could see him out of the corner of my eye, staring at me and smiling, and finally, after about 20 mintues, I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at him. He immediately jumps on the opening “Hi!” I murmer “Hi” without inflection, and return to my computer. He takes no notice.

“Why are you here all the time?” he asks.

“Because I like it here” I say, still not looking up.

“Why are you always on that thing?” (I assume he means the computer).

“Because I’m working.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a consultant”, I still do not look up, still have no inflection in my voice.

“Oh, like at AOL?” He says with a smile, happy to have figured it out.

“No.” I say, as I type pretend things into a word document, in an attempt to further indicate I don’t want to talk to him. 

“Oh. You look like you’re smart.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know I don’t even own one of those things?” Again, I assume he means the laptop. I just raise my eyebrows.

“Why don’t you talk?” he asks, which gets me to finally look up at him.

“I’m on a deadline,” I say, and return to my pretend typing.

“What kind of deadline?”

“A close one.” He finally turns his attention away from me and toward the table, which he stares at for several minutes before turning back to me. “Can you get stock quotes on that thing?”

“No.”

“Oh. Ok.” He leaves 5 minutes later.

I’ve seen him a handful of times since then, but have managed to avoid another “conversation”. Last week, I was sitting outside the coffee shop on a conference call. I kept accidentally looking where he was sitting as I randomly looked around while listening to the call. Everytime I did he’d say “Hi!”.  I moved inside at one point, walking past him and he said “HI!” again, and I acted like i hadn’t heard him. Coming back out, I passed him again, again he said “Hi!” and this time I was able to say something into the phone which allowed me to ignore him much more pointedly.

Now today. Today I am sitting outside the coffee shop, enjoying the BEAUTIFUL day, and doing my absolute favorite thing – writing. The afternoon is perfect. And so naturally he comes out. We are the only two people on the patio. He says “Hi!” I don’t look up, but offer a monotone “Hi.” (I’m too nice).

“How come you’re always here?”

“Because I like it here.”

“You look like you are smart.”

“I am.” (although not smart enough to shut this guy down).

He laughs. “So that means you work at AOL.” I don’t respond.

“Right?”

“No.”

“Oh. Would it surprise you know I don’t even own one of those things?” (Assuming lap top again, but am starting to wonder…)

I don’t respond. He says “yeah…so do you really think you are smart?”

“Yes.” He laughs again.

“Why do you think you are smart?”

“Because I am.” (Oh shit, I’m almost starting to enjoy messing with him. Must not smile.)

“So…how’s your social life?” He says and then laughs. Then he says  ”I’m just kidding…but seriously…how is it?”

Ok, not fun anymore. Back to remembering he’s a creepy stalker. I refuse to acknowledge he’s spoken.

After a few minutes he says “So what do you do with that thing?” Still assuming he means the lap top.

“Work.”

“I’m thinking about getting one… are you a programmer?”

“No.”

“oh…uh… ok.” Silence for 5 minutes.

“can you get stock quotes on that thing?”

“No.”

“Ok.” At this point, he picks up his phone, dials, and I hear him say “Hi Doc? Yeah, its Bob, um, listen…” and he walks around the side of the building and I can’t hear the conversation. But this is how I imagine it went:

Dr.: Hi Bob, what can I do for you?
Bob: Well, I’m uh, talking to a person. A girl. You know, like you said I should try to make friends?

Dr: Well Bob, I said you should try to make some appropriate friends…

Bob: yeah, I know. So she’s at this coffee shop, and I’m trying to talk to her, but she isn’t really talking back. And so I don’t know what else to say…

Dr.: Bob, remember what we talked about? About appropriate socializing versus inappropriate socializing?

Bob: yeah, but I’m being appropriate. I haven’t exposed myself  or anything. But I don’t know how to get her to talk to me.

Dr.:well, Bob, that’s certainly progress. But remember the other thing we talked about? If someone doesn’t want to talk to you, you can’t make them? So I think you should stop talking to her.

Bob: yeah, but…

Dr.: Now Bob, don’t get all worked up, you don’t want to compromise all the progress you’ve made right? You don’t want to go back in…

Bob: No! No, I don’t want that.

Dr. Ok, then go to your happy place, and find something else to do, but stop talking to that woman.

So, I totally made that up, BUT, when he came back to his table, he didn’t say “hi.” In fact, he hasn’t said anything to me at all. Although he does keep glancing at me and glancing away.   So I think he’s working the steps. Or something.

For now anyway….

Is it weird to have my first ever blog post be an update to a story that I circulate via email to a bunch of my friends? See the thing is, I’ve been thinking about getting into this blogging thing for a while, but have just been telling my stories via email to a select group of friends. And by “select” I mean whoever it occurs to me to include in the address line, for the span of attention I can spare before I’m overwhelmed with the need to start telling the story. And I always saw those emails as more about my obsessive need to share, and my friends’ willingness to indulge that need. But the most recent of these emails, (about a mystery smell in my bedroom) seems to have caught people’s attention, and I keep getting asked for updates. And because I’m relatively self absorbed and seem to be developing adult ADD, I’ve been bad at following up with the whole group. At this point I’ve told enough individuals the updates as to make another group email seem redundant, and I’ve attempted to give an update to enough people who weren’t on the original email that I’ve become self concious about my system for picking recipients of the emails. And so finally, I came to the conclusion that a blog is the only answer. Now I can tell stories to my hearts content without worrying about how is reading them (or not reading them) and those who want updates, and get them at their leisure. And so it has come to be that my first post, is an update to a pre-blog post…

Background: This is the original email:

Subject Line: New Roommates???