But we don't have a relationship!

My icky neighbor still isn't getting the hint. He's forcing me to be mean, and I really resent it.

But then, I resent everything about this situation.

It started back in May, when 90-year-old Walt rapped on my door. I wasn't prepared for company and tried to talk to him through the chain but he insisted on coming in. He had a "problem" he just couldn't discuss in the hall. So, even though I was in my robe, I let him in. Remember, I was covered to my ankles in flannel. Turns out his "problem" was his cable bill. The intro period was over and Comcast jacked up his rate. He took this opportunity -- being alone with me in my apartment -- to tell me I'm "sexy." I handed him the bill back and told him we were done and he should be on his way.

He slipped a note under my door, telling me he was sorry and taking responsibility for the incident. I thought it was over.

Then in June, it happened again. It was early, early morning. Someone was leaning on my doorbell. The intercom's broken so I had to grab my long flannel robe and my Crocs (close your eyes and picture that ensemble) to see who it was. Turns out another neighbor's daughter couldn't reach her mother and tried my bell instead. Anyway, I ran into Pervy Walt in the hall. Who then slipped another note under my door, telling me how he dreams of kissing me ... that at first I resist and then I give in. I returned the note to him, writing: THIS IS UNWELCOME! PLEASE STOP!

Every time I saw him after that I either avoided eye contact or glared. He apologized. I thought it was over.

Then last week, on Monday, he left me a note saying he was going out of town until Friday and wanted me to pick up his newspaper. He believes that if he puts his paper on vacation hold, "they" will know he's out of town and he'll be a vulnerable to a break-in. AARGH!

Now, I try to be compassionate and decent and Christian. He's 90 and alone. I suppose picking up his paper costs me nothing. It made me uncomfortable for two reasons:

1) I don't think it's wise to have anything to do with the old perv and
2) He didn't show me the courtesy of asking me.

But what the hell. Tuesday and Wednesday, I picked up his papers. When I got home Monday afternoon, I saw there were more down there and put them in front of his door, too. I thought maybe I misunderstood his note.

No. This morning, another note from Walt. A long one. He had been in Ohio ... he was supposed to come home Friday but spent four days in the ER ...  just got home now ... wonders what happened to his Thursday paper.

Now clearly I'm supposed to ask him how he's doing. That's not a good idea. Because WE DON'T HAVE A RELATIONSHIP!

I just put the note back by his door with the response, "I was out of town myself this past weekend but did what I could to retrieve your papers."

I should be able to relax in my own home, but every time I open the front door, I'm expecting another Walt-o-Gram.

I'm on vacation, watching baseball. I want to be able to shout encouragement to my heroes in Cubbie Blue without worrying that someone is in the hall, listening.

I want to be left alone.

And all I have done to deserve this is treat an elderly gentleman with respect. That'll teach me.