Boundaries. Where are the boundaries?

On Thursday I went to pick up my mail from my foster father’s place. I received a letter from a woman in Brazil. I have a (snail mail) pen pal in Brazil. According to her letter, my pen pal in Brazil gave her my address because she could learn English from a New Yorker. So, what was written in the paragraph she sent to me? Basically, her age, appearance, status (single), and how she is “very friendly to any race of the world”. She said that she saw my photo and really liked me a lot.” She then asked if I would mail to her “a american-perfume very known for women…some brand [Calvin Klein] the best for her”.

Yesterday (as usual), I spent most of the day watching TV. Around 3:30 the TV news flashed a storm warning for the tri-state area. Since I did not have milk (or ice cream pops), I decided to risk going to the store. I also wanted to buy another pair of sweatbands (for the wrists), however, I wanted the sweatbands for my ankles. I got tired of having my sneakers soaking in sweat each night because of the vinyl sweat suit. I still really like my sweat suit, but all that sweat is a bit of a pain. I am not ready to give up my suit just yet. On days like yesterday when I am not really in the mood to exercise, all of the sweating motivates me to continue; it seems like I am really making progress (even if I really am not). Anyway, back to boundaries.

Today, around 7pm, I went to answer the knocking on the main door on my floor. The lady at the door was looking for Mr. 40+. I told her that I thought he was at work, but she insisted on knocking on his door, so I left her to knock (I told her that all she had to do was pull the main door close when she left. I returned to my shoebox/cell, only to have her knocking on my door a couple of minutes later. She is nervously asking where Mr. 40+ is and that she needed her “stuff”. All of her stuff was in his room and she had no place to go. She then asked if she could stay with me until Mr. 40+ returns. Long story short, I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea (Mr. 40+ works the evening shift parking cars and would not return until 11 or 12 midnight). She then asks for $2.00 for some food. She promised that she would pay me back next week when she got her check. Unfortunately, Mr. Softee returned and gave her the $2…No, I didn’t believe for a minute that I would ever receive the money back. I’ve heard that song and dance before, but usually from the homeless people on the trains and streets. I gave the woman two Susan B. Anthony silver dollars from my Laundromat quarter container. I really did not want to show that woman where my wallet was at that time (or situation). Her response, “is that all?” She thought I had given her two quarters.

Is that it? Are you a new reader to this blog?

After asking for what she could, including asking me to not tell Mr. 40+ that she “borrowed” money from me, she then asked to borrow a scarf for her head because it was raining out. I told her that I did not have a scarf (I am very slow), she said yes you do, see it’s right there (pointing to a bandanna). Unfortunately again, Mr. Softee was in the house, I said okay. Once she left, I was very angry, mainly with myself. Despite telling myself that I’ve toughen up these last couple of years, but I have not really done very much.

After a few minutes, I realize I could call Mr. 40+ to tell (complain to him) about his Crackhead girlfriend. Sorry, I have no way of knowing if the lady was on any type of drugs. Unfortunately, that was the first impression she left me with.

Me: Hello, Mr. 40+?
Mr. 40+: Hi, wassup.
Me :Your ladyfriend stopped by. She said all her stuff…
Mr. 40+: which one?
Me :M. I. * * * * *
Mr. 40+: Oh really!!! She stopped by!!!
Me :She thought you were home, I told her you were probably at work.
Mr. 40+: No, I am at the hospital.

Last week, the two days I thought Mr. 40+ was not at work, it turns out he hit his head on a warning sign at work. I think he is thinking of suing the company. He asked me if I thought he had a case, but I told him probably not. Sorry, I am getting sidetracked.

From the joy in his voice, I really did not see any point in being nothing more than a messenger. People often complain about relationships and how the other person was this that and the other, and had no idea of the other person’s flaws. Do people really lower their standards so low, and then complain about the poor qualities of the opposite. Yes, they do. I mean no disrespect to the woman, I don’t know her well enough to form an opinion on anything other than the first impression she left. I suspect having this blog fall into my neighbors hands has altered my commentary a little.

After the phone call with Mr. 40+, I received (by phone) an invitation from my foster father’s lady friend’s daughter to go to a BBQ in the park for tomorrow. I was asked to make my macaroni salad. A little late and a little last minute. To be honest, I am not really a party person. Other people have better develop social skills than I do. For me, these social get-togethers are work. For others, conversations just come natural, but not for me.

Post Date - Sunday, July 30, 2006 2:57pm