The Old "In and Out"

Oh, I KNEW I had something to share.

So yesterday, it was like, 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I was in bed, and sleeping, but it's not as if I'd been there all day long. In fact, I hadn't been there long enough, and I wisely decided that a couple of hours of sleep would do me good before I went over to my Dad's for dinner. So there I was, sleeping, which hadn't, initially, come very easily, but there I was, in SOME sort of dream state.

And then I heard a "Susan!"

And then I heard myself call out, from the bed, "Yes?"'

Thank Heavens that the caller didn't hear me!

Because in an instant, I recognized the voice!

It was Terry! My 3 week boyfriend from last June!

I shut the fuck up real quick and hid in the bathroom.

Some minutes later I looked out my window and saw him getting into a truck with an unknown male.

Here's the thing. I live in this ancient apartment building in the center of town. There's no buzzer downstairs. I don't know if there EVER was. And the downstairs entrance door closes, but very often, doesn't SHUT! No one complains about this, because there's no crime in Media, (except when I hit the streets, ha ha) and because there's no other way to have any folks come in. I guess that's why no one complains. Or maybe it's inertia. That's my reason.

But that's not cool. He was right outside my door. And like, if he had opened it, I would have been there. In bed! Looking right at 'im from my bedroom! At 2 o'clock in the afternoon! Not, not cool!

So, he left a note. And it read," S. Where the hell have you been?" Not signed. Anonymous. Alcoholically so.

I wanted to be angry. I was definitely indignant. But here's what's stopped me. I don't know if my apartment door was locked. Usually it is. But the other night, I might have left it unlocked. And had Terry tried the door, I would have been SO exposed. (Dishes in the sink. Porn on the computer. Empty plate on the coffee table with half a plastic pen on top of it.) Maybe it was locked; I don't recall hearing him try the door. So, my point is...he invaded, yes, but he could have done worse. I don't think he tried the door, mostly I think this because he didn't come in. Thank fuckin' God.

He means well. I am very happy for his sobriety, which I believe he still retains. Which is why he would make such a house call.

But Terry, more than anyone, should understand that, while you can lead a horse to water, you can't make it stop drinking until it is good and ready to stop drinking.

What'd it take YOU? A late night visit to Swiss Farms (right across from the police station!!) to nick a pack of cigarettes? Hey, that'd get me!

Until then, concentrate on something else!

Remember the intervention on your behalf at my apartment? Remember that I had nothing to do with it, nor did I in ANY way approve of it? Well, remember that. And remember how much good that liitle groupthink did ya. And don't you come around no more. If I need your help, I'll fuckin' call.

And if you're reading this, and if you are, you need to stop, RIGHT now, you do not have permission, then know that, I'm sorry to sound so callous, and I know you're trying to do right now, but I am not appreciating it.

Come by again, I'll call the cops.

Ya know, I am not a liar, and I am not a thief. That's the truth.

Not even tempted by your extensive expensive watch collection. Or your ex-wife's jewelry. Or her Manolo Blahnik (sp?) shoes, even though we wear the same size, and she would so OBviously not miss them. The tens or twenties of 'em that were so casually left behind. That shit is safe with me.

But if you think I'm not gonna sniff out the Vicodin, the Lorezapam, the Ambien, The Clonezapam, and whatever the hell those magenta pills are, then you are either stupid or indifferent. I'd like to think the latter.

I've amassed quite a pharmocopia over here. And the thing is, I do not see what I've done as stealing. I could understand the argument in favor of that interpretation, but I'll never buy it. To me, it's just, plain and simply, survival. Well done!

And of course, the joke is, as usual, on me. No matter how much I've come away with, it will never be enough. Because I should have taken more Vicodin. It was just that they were all big and there weren't all that many of them and I guess I felt kinda funny about being so brazen. And well, I should have taken about five or six. But I only took two. And since that's too few, I might as well take the second one right now and forget about the whole thing.