Help, I Woke Up

I woke up to the first Monday of the New Year with nothing blog worthy on the tip of my fingers.

With Omicron having caused 5Ks to be cancelled, a potential meditation retreat also cancelled, it’s looking like a whole lot of nothing in the coming days, weeks, months. So, if you see me not posting regularly, it’s only because I’ve nothing to say.

Over the holiday, I’d received a Christmas Card from Next Door Neighbor (NDN), Red Light District and the neighbor with no blog name that resides in the unit underneath NDN.

While, over the weekend, getting the patio cleared off, inside items placed back into storage, I took the time to look at the cards and realized the no blog name neighbor had signed her card Ms. A….., instead of just A…..

Well, la de da, thought I.

That seemed somewhat haughty to me.

She’s not a school teacher — not to say teachers are haughty. It’s just that it’s good manners for children to address teachers as Ms. This, Ms. That, Ms. the Other.

I don’t know a lot about this neighbor, so it’s possible she taught school at one point in her life, but now she works part time at the mall.

Consequently, I will continue to address her as Hey, Girl, but it’s given me an idea of a blog name for her — Ms. Neighbor.

Running into the Baker yesterday, I learned yet another resident has taken a tumble — fell in her bathroom, cracked her head on the tub.

Fortunately, no deadly serious injury — just black and blue damage to the side of her face that hit the tub and around the eye on that side.

I also learned there’s been another resident on resident sexual assault.

When I ran into my buddy Apache and he was telling me about the three long-time residents moving, he did said he'd tried to contact me on Messenger because "I had something to tell you, but can't remember what it was".

It's possible this is what he'd wanted me to know and maybe it has something to do with the three long-time residents moving. Not just because they don’t care for the Tyrant, but because they no longer feel safe.

The first time we had a sexual assault here was a year or so after I moved in. A female resident was drinking with a couple of the guy residents and you can fill in the blanks from there.

I didn’t press the Baker for details on who what when of this occurrence, other than to say, "I hope she (the victim) reported it".

"She did, but not right away, so they told her it’s he said/she said and there was nothing they can do".

I’m assuming by "they" she meant the cops, because management’s position on anything criminal is to say "Call the cops. Let them handle it".

I’ve got good instincts and had told the Baker long ago, "I don’t trust anyone around here with a penis".

So, in response to what the Baker was telling me, I reinforced what I’d previously expressed … "This is why I don’t get too friendly with the guys around here. I wouldn’t even open my door if one of them knocked".

This includes my buddy Apache and Handsome Man, both of whom can read between the lines and know not to knock on my door. That, if they want to talk to me, they’ll have to catch me outside.

The Baker carries pepper spray with her when she’s out walking.

I learned my lesson when a pervert got onto the property and tried to trap me in the mail center, manhood exposed, back in 2017. I now, never leave the unit without pepper spray in one pocket (as backup), taser in my hand and an attitude.

The attitude alone usually works but, in the case of Spider, the market's security guard, he took it as a challenge.

Fortunately, having failed at whatever it was he'd planned, the Universe has moved him out of my orbit.

So, anyway, looks like I was wrong with waking up thinking I had nothing on the tip of my fingers blog worthy when out came another fall, another rape.