Failure

I have spent the last week cat-sitting for a couple of friends. They only live a block away from me, so each evening I head over to their house for a couple of hours. Feed, change the litter, and basically hang out reading or watching a movie on my laptop, keeping the cats company.

The fun part is that they have a PITA* neighbour. This jerk bangs on their walls at the slightest sound, and is an arrogant prick whenever they’re forced to converse. With him not knowing me, they asked me to bother him. Not in an aggressive way, but just f**k with him a bit. Apparently he’s really nosy, and will talk to me if he sees me walking in or out (he’s miffed that HE wasn’t asked to handle their house).

I worked on a backstory: I’m going to be renting a room from them, as soon as the halfway house will release me. I met the house owner when we were cellmates. What did we do? That’s an inappropriate question *grin*. Job? Nah, I’ve got money coming in. The neighbourhood? Well, I used to live in the projects down the street – you’ve got to stay close to the clientele, right? Hahaha.

I’ve been there every day for a week. I’ve been enjoying the hot weather with cigars and drinks on their front porch. He’s seen me, and smiled weakly, but hasn’t given me the opportunity to give him my story. The friends come home tomorrow, and I’m disappointed that I don’t get to play mean…


*PITA:  Pain In The Ass