I've been meaning to write for days about Mr. Worrisome, who swung from telling me I'm prejudiced to professing his affections for me before I left town. It got worse when I came back, because I didn't tell him I was going away and the house was very quiet (and badly taken care of compared to other trips, oops), so he thought I was dead and called the cops. I've heard about this from several neighbors, all of whom were more or less convinced I just went out of town. Now I know who to tell next time to get the word to him so I don't have to tell him myself.
Anyway, the night I got home, my doorbell rang within 30 minutes of my arrival. Guess who? Mr. Worrisome launched into a long explanation of how upset he was, thinking I was dead, and let slip, twice, "I'm in love with you."
I'm thinking, "OK, two weeks ago I was prejudiced. Now you're in love with me. Great. Could we just be neighbors?"
The other night he made some noise like, "If I bought you a car, would you drive it?"
"No," I said, "and you're not buying me a car and I wouldn't accept it if you did."
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