Becoming blasé

So I'm about as settled at the motel as I can be, if you call "settled" not having a kitchen table. With large boxes still in the living room.

Since getting my twisted paper blinds, which I love to death, I have, paradoxically, become much more at ease with the blinds open. Now that I know (at least by sight)most the people who walk past the windows, I don't care. I don't even bother looking up from the computer most times.

When I sit outside, reading, it's a different story. Everyone who walks by stops to talk, or fondle Mikey, who's usually lolling in the grass close by.

If dogs are a chick magnet for guys, I'm thinking my cat is a guy magnet, except that it's all the wrong kinda guys.

I was reading a good crime novel the other day, courtesy of Cassie-b who sent it in the mail, and one of the dudes (the wheezing one) slouched over and asked if I "liked that sort of thing."

"You mean reading? Yes, I do. Don't you?" I replied.

"I can't read. I didn't get past third grade."

M'kay.

Then there's this sweet elderly gent who is missing four fingers on his left hand. I'll have to ask him how that happened.

Finally, there's this other guy who's seriously pissing me off. He spends most of his time sawing or sanding pieces of wood for something he's building. And he does it behind the dumpsters, right across the laneway from my living room windows. Like, a dozen feet away.

I've already said I hate the sounds of motors. So a couple of weeks ago, when he started up his frikkin power saw around 6:00 PM, I went over to see him. Politely, I said, "Will you be doing that for very long?" He stopped, apologized profusely, and we spent a minute or so politely begging each other forgiveness, I for stopping his work, he for the noise.

Well.

It appears that he's mad at me. In French, they say "en tabarnak." Which is more than mad, it's more like furious.

Really?

All this week he's been sanding and grinding and whirring. And I've had to close my windows more than once because of it.

Which is not making me happy.

He's mad at ME because I object to his industrial noises?

Just you wait.