Friday, November 30, 2007

Capitol Krazy

You know what they say… when the cat’s away the mice will caption funny pictures of them

Here’s something I don’t talk much about… people. Particular people – with the obvious exceptions of @, my sister, Meg, MM, Anastasia, KD, Laura, the bus driver, other bloggers, my sister’s boyfriend, my mom, TR… to name a few – I don’t say much about, especially when I find someone to be irritating or – let’s say – nuts. To simplify: I don’t bitch about people on my blog.

Because I am class personified.

Yeah. With a Kapital K.

Point being, that changes here. I promise not to make this a habit, but I need to share/vent/get some advice/think about my personal safety (maybe I don't need to think about my personal safety).

My downstairs neighbor is crazy. Seriously. If I go missing or something, now you know (of course, my across the hall neighbors also display signs of crazy, but they don’t talk to me, so it’s fine).

OK, I don’t think she’s that crazy… more reckless, dramatic, and a bit too forthcoming with the personal details of her somewhat screwed up life (which very obviously became that way because of her choices). I won’t go into those details. But when she first moved in, I introduced myself. Neighborly of me, right? And there was a part of me that thought, “Awesome! A twenty or thirty-something single female in the building! Maybe she’s cool.” She’s not.

The first time I ran into her after our initial meeting, I was on my way to meet a date, but I stopped and chatted, mentioning that I was running late to meet someone. Clearly, I was leaving the building. Clearly, I had plans. Clearly, I had not signed on for a 20+ minute conversation about every maintenance issue she had in her apartment. At that point, I identified the neighbor in question as a time-sucker. Clearly, she and I were not destined to be friends – not in my opinion anyway.

The random meetings continued. She would corner me in the hallway when I was on my way home from work or on the back deck while I was running up and down the stairs to the basement trying to finish my laundry. I learned way more than I wanted to know about her crappy relationship with her boyfriend, his bizarre living situation, the guy she is cheating on him with, her issues with her place of employment, her complaints about the apartment building, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum. It was annoying, but rare, so I dealt with it. I commiserated for a few minutes and then made excuses so I didn't get too involved. Then, about a month ago, she confronted me about noise coming from my apartment. It only happened once (in the three months she had lived there), but she thought it was best to come to me first. Fair enough. I’m all about good neighborliness, and I'd rather not piss anyone off. And, she's obviously a complainer. (Of course, in roughly six years of apartment living, I have never had any issues with anyone.)

That's not actually the point though. During the course of one of our longer-than-I-would-have-preferred conversations, I mentioned MM – I can’t exactly remember why – and his profession. Bad move on my part.

Yesterday, there was a note attached to my mailbox:
Hi, This is your downstairs neighbor. I have a question for a [MM’s profession]. The next time he’s over, could he come down and knock on my door.
Um… NO. You are not going to commandeer my boyfriend for a God knows how long about whatever drama you have stirred up in your life.

Is it wrong of me to be annoyed/weirded out? Should I ask MM to talk to her and hope he comes out alive? Should I try to tackle this on my own? Should I ignore her? Help!

3 comments:

L Sass said...

Do not go in there! I think your only choice is to claim that MM does not give out professional advice and/or that he's been debarred/has a pending medical malpractice suit/lost his real estate license or all three.

Lindy said...

Ignore her! If it were something truly important that she needed, she wouldn't wait around for "happen-stance."

Happen-stance...I like that word.

heidikins said...

I'm with Laurel. Don't go there. Tell her if she needs some kind of advice you know a great place she can look: google.

xox