My neighbour Junior has some issues.  I could list them, but I don't want to bring you down his passive-aggressive/aggressive-aggressive path.  Even if we have never met, I wish to spare you of his histrionic dramas and manipulations.

Lucky for Cricket and me, we will be spending my birthday evening with Junior, somewhere in Chinatown.

My day was off to a bad start.  Junior left a message about our dinner plans, with gentle threats.  He claimed to have come by when he knew we were home, yesterday.  I'd spent most of the day 12-Stepping some one, so I may have missed his knock.  When Junior knocks, it is clear it's him.  It often follows unanswered calls.

He knows that I have mental health issues and takes umbrage if I cannot appear at a time set earlier.   In fact, we were supposed to go out for Cricket's birthday last September, but I got sick.  Angered, he told Cricket that he hadn't eaten all day.  Nice.  Today, I ran into him as I went to walk Griffin.  He kindly threatened me, saying if I wasn't up to it, he'd come and get me.  That I'd just need to get over it.

Lovely.  I'd spent the day enjoying a feast of panic attacks.  Now tomorrow, the one day where you get to celebrate being you, I'll be with Junior, making sue he's happy.

Thank god Cricket will be there.  Saves me from myself.  She also said that this is our last time with Junior.  We have brought him to the shore for Christmas, taken care of him during his prostate cancer issues, moved his furniture up and down his house.  In fact, Cricket pointed out that I have done all this.  The man can smell a sucker!  But we'd both agreed to invite him for Christmas.

This year, we had a wedding the Saturday after Christmas.  Junior wanted Cricket to drive him down on Friday.  She has no fear.  She told him we were leaving on Wednesday and returning on Sunday, having a wedding on Saturday, so no way.

Junior works me.   We move furniture within his house; large pieces.  I've spent hours stripping church candle stands.   We've shared food; he thinks I've missed my calling.  I haven't.  The man likes to eat.  He also cooks up some fierce food himself.  His country ribs are to die for.

All this went on but got worse.  He had prostrate cancer.  I even brokered a family reunion when his estranged relatives came to his bedside.  One aunt thought we had something going on, from the way I whispered to him, caressed and kissed him.  I just wanted to let him know he was not alone.

So, tomorrow, I will go out to dinner with the woman who has supported me regardless.  We will be joined with the man who threatened to find me, if I were too ill to attend.  Nice.  Gets it off to an easy start, right?