May 07 , 2004

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Another run-in with Tammy...my very interesting, possibly insane neighbor.

For starters, I'm convinced she doesn't actually have a job. She's been home all day, every day, all week long, popping out only occasionally to bum cigarettes off me.

Now, this isn't exactly Beacon Hill I'm living in, but it's not all that cheap, either. There are months I have a hard time making rent, and I have a job. How she does it is beyond me.

I'm sure it seems to her like I don't work either, because all she's seen of me is a pasty, gangly guy who seems to be in his apartment drinking beer all day. Maybe she thinks I'm a kindred spirit.

So anyway, I just had a knock at my door, and it's Tammy. In her hand is a ratty plastic bag full of various cosmetic products.

"Hi! I don't suppose I could interest you in some beauty products? There's Clinique...there's facial scrub...there's..."

"No, I'm fine," I say, cutting her off. "I'm beautiful enough as it is."

"Yeah right," she says. The door closes. And she's off to the NEXT apartment.

So, I figure the stuff is stolen. Either that, or stuff that was bought, used, and forgotten about, and she's now selling it to make a buck or two.

And here I am...WORKING for my money like a chump.

Kramer would be a relief right about now.