I had a FUCKING GREAT post tonight. I mean, really truly great. And now it’s trumped by this information:
I was just walking the doggies and we took an extra long walk – a rare event for the last walk of the night. Though, if I had retreated home when I originally wanted (10:00 instead of 10:15) then, Sammy would not have gotten out that last poop and I wouldn’t have seen Sherlock driving by my house.
Again. Sherlock driving by my house.
I do feel like sending a text that says: “Since you can’t honor boundaries, and acknowledge the no-stalk zone of 17th Street, I’m not going to honor proper break up rules. Consider this your notice.”
The thing is, I’ve been stalked before by TheCop. So I am never surprised by what men are capable of doing (women too) but it doesn’t mean that I actually believe it will go as far as it does. Showing up at Citron was by far the scariest thing that has happened in the Sherlock stalking show. It’s the delusional “I thought you saw me, I thought you smiled at me” crap that reeks of TheCop, whose real name is Nick, because who the fuck cares now? Password! HA!
Anyway, I genuinely feel bad that he feels he has to behave like this. I know if I would just talk to him it would all go away. I went out the other night and drove by his house (I was going in that direction) and yeah, I looked up to see if he was home (he wasn’t) but, then I thought, “What the hell would I do if he saw me?” That thought alone was enough to get me the hell off his street and on to a parallel one.
In other news, yesterday was Thora’s birthday. She’s seven. My little girl is all grown up!