Baby Steps

Once again awakened at 3:30 this morning by the roar of the washers, as someone was doing laundry, and unable to roll over and go back to sleep, my mind wandered.

Thinking it’s time to take my search for a new automobile off the internet and onto an actual lot, I thought today might be the day to put that plan into action. However, I’m thinking of not actually stepping onto a lot, being accosted by greasy looking characters pushing for a sale, but that I might first take baby steps -- just drive by the lot I’m thinking about, scope the dealership out, get a feel for the place.

If it feels right, I’ll park, get out, step onto the lot.

If not, it’s back to the drawing board.

Having narrowed the search down to a Jeep, specifically the white Wrangler with the black hard top, but feeling it unwise and unsafe to bring an expensive automobile into this neighborhood, looks like it’ll be a white Renegade.

The Renegade looks so similar to my Saturn that the fact there’s a new automobile in my parking spot might go completely unnoticed.

That thought about not being noticed reminded me of something said to me at yesterday’s Valentine Potluck by the resident who was coming on to me (let’s call him Handsome Guy).

Handsome Guy has had a passing mention in the blog – first here, then here.

I actually didn’t realize, when he sat next to me and began chatting me up, that he was hitting on me until at one point, he said “I like your hair”.

Hmmm, that’s the flattery technique, thought I.

I was polite, “Thank you”.

“Dreadlocks?” said he.

“No, Sisterlocks”.

A little later, he commented on my clothing. I was wearing a headband with an American flag design and my Wonder Woman leggings. 

I don’t recall precisely what he said, but my response was that I like camouflage and americana.

“I like America”, said he. “I just don’t like the president”.

That set off a political discussion at the table, which stopped as Apache approached because Apache gets so riled up when anyone voices a dislike of his idol the Orange Idiot in Chief.

It didn’t register until this morning, when I couldn’t go back to sleep and my mind was wandering, that Handsome Guy’s attention to detail – my hair and manner of dress, meant he’d been sneaking glances, checking me over pretty good.

At one point in our conversation, we’d been discussing how the neighborhood has changed so much, and not for the better. He cautioned me to be watchful, be careful because, “You never know who is watching you.”

Did he mean him?

He’s not the least bit creepy. A Seventh-Day Adventist, he moved here to be near his mom, who lives over by the University, is retired from security at Santa Anita, and now has his own Armed Guard/Security Company and even has offered his services to management, at a reduced rate.

They said no because corporate management is cheap. They don’t want to pay for anything, not even at a reduced rate.

Handsome Guy stuck to me like glue through the entire Valentine Potluck, after which he began excusing himself  to check on his mom, who was fresh from a hospital visit; but then decided to stay and sit with me through the special meeting.

The meeting turned out to be two hours long but, I was pretty much feed up with the bullcrap halfway through and got up to leave.

Handsome Guy got up to leave as well, walked me out, held the door.

Nice guy, a gentleman, a lot going for himself but, just like I’d summed him up last time I blogged about him – when he followed me into the Game Room, as a bit lonely and bored, the way he clung and glued himself to me yesterday made him also seem needy. 

I’m reminded of the many different episodes I’ve seen on Investigation Discovery television programs where some woman had her life altogether, met and got involved with some guy, ended up with her life turned upside down.

Seventy-four years around the sun, I don't need this. I’ve reached a point where I’ve no time or room for some guy using up my time, being a lead weight around my neck, handsome or not.