Some things and girl (almost) next-door.

The scariest thing happened to me today. I mean it was not really all that scary, but there is a crazy person in our building. And now that the news is out, it has come to my knowledge that there are actually several crazy people living here. This I find oddly comforting, like they might be more excepting of seeing me in my bed clothes when I take the dog out, things like that. 

For a few weeks now, Joe has been telling me about this woman who has been giving him trouble in 152. And I am always like, Joe can handle things, he is a tough cat, eats lots of spinach, that sort of thing. I have started receiving her mail, the girl who lives almost next door. And at first, I think it was a honest mistake - this has only happened like 2 or 3 times - her name is Chrisa Carlson or something like that, formally Christopher Carlson. So I get her mail, big deal, so Joe thinks something is up with her, again no big deal. But I had never really met her. I know that it is a total federal offense to open other people’s mail from courts and jail and such, but I really thought it might have been for me (kinda). Back to my point, I met her for the first time like two hours ago. Joe had had me on the look out for her since she had moved in, and I saw her walk into the building ahead of me a few steps, when I was coming home from dinner tonight. She just stood in the hallway and watched me, stumble for my keys, then open the door. Her apt is the second on the left, and when I looked up from walking into the building, I didnt see her, but I could see her door was open, like she had left it for me. All of this is really scary - if you are too scared you can stop reading, because it gets worse (I just realized that this whole thing is not all that scary, only to me). As I pace by her door, I see her, in the front of the door standing waiting for me. But she doesnt say a word. I say “good evening,” smile and hunch my shoulders like I have just over heard a secret, or seen the inside of a bank security system or something. And She looks at me, and I think that what we are having is a moment, I expect her to say something like, “Hello, I am Chrisa, your new neighbor, I like green peas and pasta….” Then I plan on telling her about the mail situation, we laugh about how odd it is to be living in the same building as someone with almost the same name. Perhaps we are long lost twins? But we dont look alike, Joe says. Point being is that I should be feeling this warm winter moment with a new neighbor, I am happy, and I feel good to be home, much like listening to a Morgan Freeman monologue, but then she slames the door, and I feel the building shutter.