Monday Afternoon

                                                                                                                                     I like to think of myself as a pretty nice person. I care. I try to be kind. I help people. For some reason, over the years, there has always been one or more tenants whose own lives are so miserable, that they become obsessed with me, and try to make me miserable. After all of the tenant’s ploys to get to me, I have put several strategies into place. First of all, if she sits right next to me, not even acknowledging me or attempting a conversation with me, I am going to get up, and either sit somewhere else or go back up to my apartment. Yesterday afternoon, there were two empty benches, but she plunked herself down right next to me, not saying a word. Another strategy that I have thought of is that when she says something derrogatory to me, I am not going to respond. I am not interested in seeing photos of her sister and her family. Nor do I want to listen to the kind of music that she pulls up on her phone. I also do not wish to be given blow by blow details of the movies that she is interested in and I am not. I actually WOULD take an interest, like I used to, but after being around her long enough, after learning what she is all about, I want nothing to do with her. She could care less about how I am doing or what is going on with me, so why should I listen to her? If she and her cronies start using the “F” word, or flipping their middle fingers, or making jokes about passing flatus, I do not want to be around it and will go back up to my apartment. I have reached the point wherein I know that she does not give a damn about me, so why should I give a damn about her?