Stalker man

August 8, 2013

   Taelor’s rapid-fire tales, of international six weeks of adventure in Thailand, kept us awake far into the night. She is committed to being healthy as a horse and finding a best-paying job at the start of her college classes. Since I worked nearly full-time throughout my insufficient college career, I encourage her to pull back on the taut reins a bit and give herself a bit more slack, have some fun and not get too uptight about earning a living. No sense hanging herself so early on.

   Stalker guy in a running truck, parked across the street early this morning, caused the neighbor to call the cops. We witnessed the proficient police officer questioning the perp then he drove off, leaving the driver intact. He was evidently waiting for the garbage truck, as he jumped out of the vehicle, and chatted with the dude for quite some time. Over the roar of the trash compactor, I could not make out the words, and don’t claim to be a great lip-reader. Shoot. Maybe the guy is an undercover, looking for a body in a black garbage bag. One could only hope.

   Moved the rest of the odds and ends into Taelor’s four-plex on a shady corner next to the questionable Midway Motel. Threw me back thirty-two years to the TKE house I lived in with four other young women, boyfriends abound, much saga and torrential tears, rusty cars parked bumper-to-bumper in the city streets, Ramen noodles, popcorn and canned vegetable diets with lots of cheap beer, not to mention guests, around the pad all hours of the day and night. Sonya used to open a can of string beans, turn on the burner and come back to find "someone had emptied the water out of the pot!" We could not convince her that hot water turned to steam and evaporated the liquid from her meal. 

   My Sekai bike was stolen from smack dab in the middle of the livingroom, while I was on a break from work between the hours of bar-time (roughly 2:00am,) and my early morning breakfast shift at 8:30. I was heartbroken. 

   Neighbors above seem to be gone for good. A younger sister appeared with an unrecognized truck, to grab more of the household goods upstairs. She claimed Exel shut off the electricity due to a past due balance, and they are moving out since “cash is short these days.” The pink bike with a rusty bell sits next to the dirty pair of size two roller blades on the back porch, rejected.