passion...schmassion

Day 10148: I want some nosy neighbours…

The dog barked in the middle of the night. Her teeth were bared, she was growling for all her little 7 pounds of bone and fluff were worth.

“Hush, baby… hush… it’s just the neighbours coming home. Go back to sleep.” I roll over, snuggle deeper into my lumpy pull-out couch and try to go back to dreaming happy chocolate dreams. She’s been super sensitive for weeks. Any little sound outside gets her riled up, wound up, and ready to attack.

I drift back to sleep. Warm, cozy… semi-happy for the first time in a long while. Things are good, getting better at least. I made it through a bad day. Survival mode…

I’ve got plans, I’ve got goals… I’m going to get my life back in order… soon as I wake up…

I hear the jangle of keys. Voices jar me out of my half-sleep. Strange… neighbours don’t usually take that long to go inside.

The door knob turns. Someone is pushing against my door. The jangle of keys again, the scrape of the key fob against the wood of the door.

“What the hell?” I spring out of bed, rush to the door, pulling on clothes as I go. Crap, I forgot my glasses. Run over, pick them up, fumble to get them on my face. I stand behind the door, trying to block it should someone try to push their way in. It takes me a split second to summon the courage to look out the peephole. I’m afraid of what I might see. Hairy men in wife beaters, balaclavas pulled over their faces, wielding machetes and knives… help me… there’s nothing in here worth stealing. Take my money, all $21. 48 of it. I don’t care.

The doorknob keeps turning. I want to grab it so they can’t come in. I peek out into the hall. A man and a woman. She’s pushing on the door and tries to turn the key. She tries, then he tries.

“What do I do? What do I do???” I’m panicking… I don’t want to open the door, but how do I get them to stop?

Finally, I open the door a crack. Leave the chain on… “What good would it ever do?” the voice in my head nags… “You’re going to get killed and there’s no one around to even care…”

“Can I help you?” I ask. Why am I being polite to my soon-to-be-murderers..

“You’re in my apartment. You have my cat. Get out of my apartment.” The woman says. A wave of stale, fetid, alcohol breath hits me in the face.

Great. She’s drunk and she’s trying to break into my apartment. Even so… I stick my foot behind the door. There’s no way she’s coming in.

“I’m sorry? I live here.” And there’s no cat here… Did she used to live here once upon a time? Why the heck would she think that this was her apartment?

“No, that’s my apartment. I’ve lived here for a month. See suite 123…” She points at the numbers on my door. “1-2-3”

“I think you’re in the wrong building.” My heart is still hammering. My mouth is dry. My brain is barely functioning. “You must live in the next building…”

“I live here! GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!” She’s yelling now. Hopefully loud enough to wake the neighbours. Maybe, then. someone will come to my rescue.

“This is 10 Main Street. You must live in 10 Anywhere…” How the heck do you reason with a drunk? I look over at the guy she’s with. He just stands there with a bemused expression. Just watches the scene unfold before him. Not doing anything about it.

“THIS IS 10 ANYWHERE!!! GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!!!”

She’s crazy. She’s drunk. She’s trying to break into my apartment.

“I’m calling the cops.” What the heck else can I do???

“FINE!”

I shut the door and lock it. My hands are shaking… I stumble in my dark apartment looking for my phone and my phone book. I can’t find the number. When did I move in? I finally find it and dial the security desk…

“I’mcallingfrom123andthere’sacrazydrunkwomantryingtoforceherwayin… pleasecomehelp”

“Calm down, ma’am. I’ll send someone up right away.”

In the hallway, I can hear the woman talking to someone… maybe the guy she’s with, maybe someone on the phone…

She’s sobbing…”There’s a crazy bitch in my apartment and she won’t let me in… She has my cat, the crazy bitch…”

But I don’t care anymore.

I sit down in the middle of the floor. I’m sobbing too. The dog is hiding somewhere and I can’t see her in the dark.

I fumble for my phone… and dial Triscuit's number.