Friday, September 03, 2010

10 Pet Peevery Lane + the Apartment Above the Garage

As we've previously established over the course of the last year, I'm pretty social.

Rarely does a weekend go by that doesn't find me out and about in some capacity. I'm quite busy and important.

But let's look at that sentence.

I believe the operative phrase here is out and about.

I rarely invite people into my personal living bubble.

There are many reasons for this - the obvious one to those who've had the pleasure of entering the Grotto is because my entertaining space leaves much to be desired.

However, perhaps the biggest reason why I don't entertain frequently is that I like my personal living bubble just as it is...unoccupied save for the Lex and the cat.

They're quiet. And they don't bug me.

When I'm at home, I'm decompressing, re-charging my introvert battery if you will. And I don't like being disturbed...

Especially without warning.

So the unannounced drop by-er, needless to say, is a most unwelcome interruption.

Most of the people in my life know this. Mainly because I typically make a point to let everyone know that if they're "in the neighborhood", a phone call with at least 15 minutes' warning is warranted before they are allowed to pop by.

I started having to maintain this boundary years ago - back in high school - when that was just the "thing" people did. You know, that whole I'm-just-driving-around-cuz-I-am-teen-angsty-and-don't-want-to-be-at-home-with-the-'rents-so-I'm-going-to-come-hang-out-and-bug-you technique?

Yeah that.

Go away.

And while certainly as I've aged and my friends have aged and we have actual lives to lead it's gotten much more manageable and less likely to occur, there are still a few who do not heed my boundary and insist on just dropping in whenever they pass my block.

I've stopped answering the door.

And the phone.

Bonus Apartment Above the Garage:

This morning as I was driving home from the grocery, a ginormous poopnoodle1 cut me off and nearly caused an accident when he made a left turn from the far right lane.

I honked at him, thinking perhaps he hadn't seen me.

He flipped me the bird as though I was the one who'd done something wrong.

And I'm all, you know, hey Poopnoodle! Save that bird for someone who actually deserves it, K?

Because, if anything, you owe me a great big apology wave and possibly cake.

1: Poopnoodle is from Dan Savage's column this week. No, you really don't want to know what it is. But isn't it an awesome derogatory term for someone?

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