I just remembered another insult a few days ago from the neighbor again. She was at the back door rapping like usual and I answered it. She wanted to know if her daughter could play again. She looked down at my feet after looking me up and down like always and said, "oh, is that metallic nail polish?"
"Not really," I said, "It is light green," and I pulled my foot out more into the light so she could see it.
"Oh," she laughed, "I don't like that. It makes me thing of fungus on your feet, or gangrene or something."
"Well, I don't think so," I said, "green is my favorite color."
"Oh, I know."
Crumbs, here is one of my blasted feet so you can see. They just got through running five and a half miles so they look thrashed, but here goes:
That wasn't much of a help, since you can't really see the color, but they are painted green, and they don't look like fungus, but apparently my neighbor seems to think so. Not that I care much, it is just fun to have something new thrown at you each day to keep you "on your toes" if you know what I mean.
She had a conversation with me over the weekend telling me about how she quit her job and whatnot and she was starting to explain how impossible her boss was when she stopped mid-sentence and said, "...but you don't really know much about working, or having a boss, but you get what I mean now, don't you?" To those of you who don't know, she knows nothing about me because she is too busy talking to even know that other humans exist. I have had jobs before, duh.
I didn't move but just stood there hoping she would stop wasting my time and running her mouth so I could get inside and read my book.
At my Girl's birthday party she stayed behind after everyone left and said, "You don't know how good you have it, do you?"
You see, everything I have, she wants. She wants someone to support her and she wants to not have to work, mainly. I don't know what she thinks that I do all day, but it isn't sleeping and watching TV. She thinks I am nuts to run or workout. She has no clue why my kids are so well-behaved since with her own son she never spanked him but put up a reward chart because the psychologist recommended it and now he is a criminal. She can't get to me because I know everything about her, but she knows next to nothing about me. And whatever she says to insult me, she sees that I am not penetrated, nor do I respond because I saw this stuff in seventh grade, man. Jr. freaking High.
She told my son that her son is living with her now and would love to play basketball with him.
"Oh, how old is he?" my Oldest asked.
"He's my age," I offered.
"Almost twenty seven," she said and looked at me wide-eyed and shocked.
"Wait a minute," she yelped. "How old are you, I forget," looking at me with her hand on her heart.
"You could be my daughter!" she cried.
"Uh, yep." And you are fifty-four, born a few days from my own mother, and I know not only this, but every stinking detail of your life because you come over, insult me, and then believe that I want to listen to your whole life. I have heard nearly ALL OF IT. And I actually listen. Maybe you can get away with telling the same story five times in a row with the lady across the street because she doesn't care either, but I know the whole story. And I remember stuff. And you can't remember who you told what but I know you go through that every time you start to tell me something. I know that if I say one word to you about my own life that is personal, the lady across the street and all your friends will then know it. I know your kind, dear.
But then I want to display Christ as well. This is very well going on in my head, yes, I am totally on my guard. And I know I come off to her as a little bit elite or something, I don't know how else to put it. She wants what I have but she doesn't know how to get it. Whenever she comes to me with a problem and almost starts to cry, I tell her to pray to Jesus. I flat out preach the gospel to her, no joke. Maybe next time she does it I will put my hand on her head and pray for her right then and there. I figure I have nothing to lose because she keeps coming to me with her insults and problems and then I gain nothing truly. NOTHING. If she wants what I have, I can tell her the truth of it: All I have is because Someone gave it to me. That's it. She can either run from me (which is fine) or accept the truth.
How do you like them apples?