I’ve been trying to be less of an Introvert lately. You know, like visiting people and …… well, visiting people. It’s not really working out for me because the first person to come for a visit wouldn’t leave when I was done visiting.
I should have known better when he came to the front door bearing a big-assed can of coffee. I was so focused on being appreciative that I never thought about the ironic consequences. I don’t even know him – Izzie broke into his house and refused to leave until he gave her treats – but I, personally, don’t know him any further than my apology regarding The Queen of Mean’s home invasion. I’ve only spoken to him once and couldn’t even remember his name. It’s Peter – I had to ask.
Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have invited him in the house, but it was cold outside and I’m a responsible user of utilities. And the coffee; how do you deny a guest coffee when he brings it as a gift? We were at that awkward point where you either invite him in or slam the door in his face and I couldn’t do that because coffee(!) and my fucking cat invaded his home! Had I known we would be trading Home Invasions, I might not have accepted the gift or extended the welcome quite so fast.
Once inside, I gave Peter a cup of coffee and set a new pot to brew. The Viking was busy hanging a television on the wall in the bedroom, but he popped out to chat for a bit. After 45 minutes or so he went back to his job, leaving me alone with Peter. To entertain him. All by myself. She’s not just my cat, you know, Viking! And speaking of the cat, she just curled up on the side board behind Peter’s back and had a nap. That’s the thanks I get around here.
I filled Peter’s coffee cup 5 times. By then, I was just listening without responding (aka encouraging). The Viking went out to blow the snow off the sidewalks around the entire block and came back home and Peter was still here. I stood up and started to putter around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, tidying up, that sort of thing and Peter still sat at the table.
I stopped the refills after the 6th cup. I was starting to get the feeling that he might be moving in and the coffee was a House Warming gift for us. He said his house had finally sold and made a point of letting me know he was between residences. “We have a tiny house, Peter, and you are a big guy! AND we only have one bathroom!”
This is the reason I’m an Introvert in the first place, Peter!!! It doesn’t feel good, it feels like we’re hostages without a ransom demand. Fucking Izzie!
He wouldn’t even use the bathroom, so I could escape to the garage and barricade us in with a snowmobile.
He must have some sort of space age-y bladder that can hold more than 6 cups of coffee for an insane amount of time. I considered sneaking my cellphone into the bathroom and calling 911 – Help! We’re being held hostage by our cat’s home invasion victim! That would never work anyway because there is no law about how long a guest can stay unless it becomes a Squatter Violation but that takes months!
In the meantime, he’s going on and on about his failed marriage 11 years ago and how much money it cost him and why the political system was the foundation upon which his divorce was built on.
I realize that he just wanted someone to talk too but I ran out of patience 2 hours ago. Besides, I’m not even a friend! I’m just a woman whose cat burglarized his house!
I put the cream back in the fridge after three and a half hours, put his cup in the dishwasher, turned the lights on and said, “Wow! It’s getting late.”
I took a moment to wonder if I’m just being selfish, but then I looked at the clock and decided, “Fuck that!! My entire afternoon is gone! And just because Izzie held him hostage doesn’t mean he can hold us hostage or think he can move in with us – two wrongs don’t make a right, Peter!
The marathon finally ended after 4 hours and 49 minutes – just shy of the 5 hours Izzie held him hostage. I locked the front door behind him and sagged onto the closest chair.
Izzie wandered past without looking at me. “No more dragging humans home! If you must be a burglar, make sure you aren’t followed. Seriously. Do I have to make you watch Gone In 60 Seconds?”
I’m just going to chalk this up to bad luck and a learning exercise. First things first – I need a front door with a one-way mirror in it and a trap door for those who make it past the front door before showing their true colors. And then I’ll just go to the visitor instead of them coming to me.*
*This does not apply to my 4 top friends. You can still come for coffee any time for as long as you want. I’ll make a blanket tent in the family room and have a bowl of Jell-o powder so we can lick our fingers and stick it in the powder (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it). Sure, it will stain your finger but how important is that compared to the fun?! Right Judy?