By the third time, in less than an hour, (which may or may not officially qualify him for stalker status) I volunteered to give oldest a break and answer the door myself. I held it close to my body, to block his view. I don't remember everything he said because I was still groggy.
"Hey, how old are you?" he asks.
Not wanting to give away any personal information, "Old enough to know I still need some sleep." I smile.
"Oh, yah, yah," he puts his boot in the door way.
I hold the door knob on the back of the door tighter as I push the door closer to my side.
I think his shirt is wrong side out. It has writing on it, from a sharpie. Something about receiving a regular check from the 'Social Security Administration' and that he has money to pay if someone (or a woman, can't remember exactly) is interested in having a relationship with him.
Last week his shirt had drawings of houses, I think an address and something about being castrated at 57 years old.
Later this evening he is knocking again. He's wondering if we have a wire for a charger or something. He doesn't have his wheelchair. I hope it didn't get stolen...
My personal life is in shambles and as if it can't get any lower...I think I might have an old, homeless guy trying to pick up on me. Great.