Just....No

In stark contrast to the Year of Yes I've got a big motherfucking no no.

I live about three blocks from a Jehovah's Witness's Kingdom Hall. We have a solid population of Witnesses and additional foot traffic most days as well. I'll be honest, while I respect their right to believe whatever they like and practice all the religion they like when they try to press it on me my blood gets pretty boily. When I had the dog I'd scooch her closer to ward a witness off and I've been known to shake an admonishing finger at someone approaching me on the street and say a firm, "No."

There's an older lady in my building who has trouble walking. She often sits in the courtyard for a rest on the way into the building and we say hello. Or, we did. You have to walk through a security pavilion, sign in or use a key, cross the courtyard, and buzz or use your key to get into a building in the complex where I live. It's pretty rare to have your apartment bell ring without having buzzed the person into the building first. One night my bell rings and, despite my inclinations I answered it. It could be a warning about a gas leak, who knows? There is Lady Cane and a friend and they're ready to witness. What the fuck is that? I shut the door almost immediately and said, "Absolutely not."

So we don't say hello anymore.

I thought that took the cake. Really did.

I had a bit of an emotional day yesterday. Nothing huge just some hoop followed by a little la and my own bad judgment in diving in a bit too deep. In any case, I commuted home by way of a long walk with NDP and her nutty shepherd boy. By the time I'd been out walking and talking and throwing a slimy plastic bottle for an hour I wasn't cured but I was pounds lighter for sure. Grabbed the mail on the way in and there was even a hand addressed letter to me! Cool. OK, weird, it wasn't from anyone I knew and the return address was in this neighborhood but maybe it was some good samaritan  redirecting a piece of misdelivered mail. Still mail for me, yay!

Let me transcribe:

Dear [My Real First Name],

I live in your neighborhood. I have not been able to speak with you personally, but I have some import [sic] information That I want to share with you.
A sample of it is contained in the enclosed Tract. This tract has some very good news about all suffering soon to End. Why did suffering start. It is my privilege to share in a work that is being done by volunters [sic] in upward of 200 lands. Our work is not commercial. It is my hope that some day soon I will be able to talk to you personally.
Please feel free to get in touch with us at the above address.

Sincerely,
Anna Gibbon

Let's forget for a minute that it's possible she got my address from my neighbor. Heck she could be my neighbor since I don't know the woman's name. BACK OFF OF MY FUCKING SOUL! Believe what you want to believe, go to the meetings and read the tracts and listen to the preachers of whatever words and incantations you like but leave me out of it for, you'll pardon the expression, the love of Christ. If Ms. Gibbon had enclosed Muslim tracts I could go to my local precinct or call Homeland Security and probably get her brought in for questioning. I could certainly get her cautioned strongly against doing things that could be construed as invading someone's privacy.

The thing is, the people in the mosque half a block away from the Kingdom Hall would never, ever do anything like this. They do their thing just like the Baptists on the next block or the...Seventh Day Adventists, I think, around the corner. They leave me out of it. Which is as it should be.

Maybe I'll print out all my G-spot posts at the Colony and mail them to the Kingdom Hall.