Friday, February 10, 2012

Somehow, I've become the creepy neighbor.

Sometimes when my brain is behaving like a social mercenary, I say things that I might not have meant to say or that come out all wrong because my veil of discretion has been lit on fire or napalmed or destroyed in a way that requires 24-48 hours of monk-like silence from me during its repairs--lest I say things that will inevitably drive me further from the opposite sex unintentionally or frighten children and weak-minded individuals within earshot.  Today is one of those days.  Here's how I know.

In the elevator this morning, I ran into two neighbors that I've never seen before, despite the fact that they live on my floor.  As elevator conversation makes me awkward and uncomfortable and I don't particularly care for anyone on my floor (what?!  I know I'm misanthropic!), I was resigned to staring at my shoes and remaining silent, until one of the men spoke up.

"Are you all moved in?" he asked.

"Um.  What?" Please stop talking.  Let's just have this elevator ride in silence, okay?

"I haven't seen you here before, are you new to the building?"  This emanation came from the second neighbor.

"No, I've been here a while."  I just don't like to leave my apartment if I don't have to, is all.

"Oh," said his friend.

"I wonder why we haven't run into each other," said my apparent neighbor.  He looked perplexed and/or stoned.

And before I even realized what I was saying, this happened:  "Because I'm sneaky," I said.

They looked at me with a mixture of what I would say was confusion and uncertainty.

"Sneaky?"  Neighbor #1 asked.

"Yes.  Stealthy, too."  The elevator reached the first floor and I stepped out.  They exited behind me, somewhat cautiously.

"So, I guess we'll see you around," said Neighbor #2.

"Or... you won't see me.  But I'll see you."  I eyed them suspiciously and rounded the corner to pick up my mail.  In retrospect, I have no idea what possessed me to respond in such a way, but admittedly at the time, it felt like the right thing to do.  I don't think there's a whole lot of harm done, especially because I am now more comfortable knowing that there are two less neighbors who would potentially knock on my door to ask to borrow something and judge me for being drunk and pantsless at 7 p.m. on a weekday or wandering around my kitchen with a hedgehog on my shoulder.

Huh.

Then again, perhaps I've always been the creepy neighbor.

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