While I have so enjoyed watching the cop comments in the last post, you are requesting more. And I have more to give. Here we go.
Every afternoon when I come back from lunch, I toss my change on my desk. Every night when I leave, I forget to take it with me. Every morning when I come back in, the change is gone. It’s no secret that our cleaning crew at my office are a bunch of thieves. They have made off with a laptop from our office, as well as several cases of soda. Now they are stealing my money. Like the time when some redneck in Atlanta was stealing our Sunday paper, I set up a sting operation to catch the criminal – or to at least tell him/her that I knew what they were doing.
I should tell you that I’m a vindictive revenge-getter. If you wrong me, you best step back, because it won’t be pretty. I hate a thief the most of any. Get a job and get your own shit, don’t take mine! The person who stole that last Sunday paper from me in Atlanta pulled it out of the bag to find 4 weeks worth of chinchilla and hamster shit collected from the bottoms of their cages. Awww. So sad. I’m sure with as packed as that paper was with animal poop, there was no way it didn’t get all over their house. With my change thief, I taped my change to a sticky note that said, “How long will you keep stealing my change?” This morning I got a response to my note – a sticky note taped to a dollar that said, “I’m sorry. I took your money, here’s what I stole.”
Then my heart sank. I felt bad. I’m leaving him his dollar with a note that he can have it, I just wanted him to know that I knew what he was doing. I’m not trying to get a cleaning person in trouble for some change. If he gets fired, then he collects unemployment, maybe goes on welfare and I end up paying more for that, don’t I? I just want the thieves to know they can’t get away with it. Keep in mind my personality trait of feeling guilt for the rest of this post, okay?
After my post on visiting Uncle M (who by the way, told my cousin that I didn’t come up there to see him…hmm…) and the car accident, I got a text from everyone’s favorite enemy Sherlock. Well, he can’t be our favorite enemy anymore because from the last post I think we have a new asshole around here. Sherlock apologized, and said that I wrote a great post. I wanted to write back because I just didn’t think this would fix itself without a conversation. And someone thought I should just talk to him and deal with it head on. I replied that he was acting like a lunatic, and that two weeks of all this communication without a response from me was insane. We went back and forth in some texting over Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon we decided to have dinner on Wednesday. So, I ate dinner with Sherlock last night. It was fine. We had to clear the air, and each tell our side of what we thought happened. Mixed signals I suppose.
It’s not often that this type of sorting out occurs. I think in a lot of situations, one person just gets tired of the other and stops communication, without feedback. I would love to know what I did or didn’t do with regard to some of my exes.
Anyway, Sherlock walked me home and I said, “I really liked you the first night, and then something happened.” (I mean, I really liked him. Then it went all wrong, crashing and burning on the way.) He said, “Yeah, because I didn’t care the first night I met you.” But then he started caring. And shit changed.
And there we have it. I’m not saying this is a hard and fast rule, but showing someone you are available to them at every juncture is somehow unappealing. We like the challenge. We like to think that someone isn’t exactly ours from the start. I asked Sherlock if his interest in me was solely because I wasn’t interested in his attention. He said it was possible, but, who knows. Does anyone ever know with these things?
Final result: No matter what happens, he promised to stop being a psycho. And yes, he did use that word, and he did acknowledge that he was acting crazy. But he said it will stop, right…now.