When Being Told You’re Hot is Not a Good Thing

The week has been going by at the speed of light. I’ve been super busy at work and trying to take care of personal business after work. Never enough time.

This afternoon, I got a call from Terry, the guy working on refinishing my table. He was wondering when I was going to stop by and pick up my chairs. I bought 4 chairs from another guy that works at the refinishing shop for cheaper than it would have been to repair my old ones. It’s been ungodly hot here all week — 90’s and super high humidity and the furniture shop doesn’t have air conditioning so understandably, everyone wanted to go home. The only thing holding Terry back was me.

So I stopped there as soon as I could and loaded up my chairs. I’m going to repad and reupholster the seats in a black material. I haven’t picked it out yet.

I’ll do my old, rickety chairs in the same material so I can pull them out to use when I have more than four people over for dinner. Although I just read that it’s the cool thing to do to upholster your chairs in a variety of non-matching materials. We’ll see…

When I picked up the chairs, Terry gave me a bottle of water and a CD of his band. It’s all soothing instrumentals that helped calm my work-frayed nerves on my drive home. The band will be playing at the upcoming state fair so maybe I’ll see them there too.

Today, the new owners of my old home forwarded some mail to me. They put three pieces of mail into another envelope. Two were just notices from the post office to confirm my change of address. The third was a plain envelope with just “Mary” written on it.

If whoever wrote it would have just left it at how hot I am, that would have been okay, but it got very raunchy towards the end.

Is it threatening? Probably not. I doubt this person knows where I moved to. They don’t even know I changed the spelling of my first name. But they do know my first name. So I’m assuming this is someone in the old neighborhood. Someone that I shot the breeze with. That I perhaps considered a friend.

So the hard part about receiving this is that perhaps it is further evidence that I have trusted people that are not trustworthy.

I’d like to know how you tell the difference? Do you just assume everyone is not what they appear to be?

I’m trying not to let my old garbage blow this out of proportion. It’s really not a big deal.

But it feels icky and invasive.

I wish people wouldn’t do stuff like this. Rather than being afraid, like I might have been in the past, I’m just plain angry.

I would have liked to have just enjoyed this day because of the happy feeling I had when Terry gave me his CD. No one has the right to make me feel otherwise.

So I boiled up some cabbage and served it with a little olive oil, dill, salt, and pepper for dinner. I ate the whole thing.

After all, I’m a single gal. I can now eat cabbage without worrying about who I offend.

It could be a good line of defense against stalkers.