I value my privacy. You’d never guess that, huh? Cause I tell y’all everything going on in my life. But that’s because I consider y’all friends and I know you won’t judge me…right? *snorts*
However, as I’ve gotten older, my privacy has become something I’m almost paranoid about and some people just don’t understand that. It might not even be “privacy” I like, so much as my space. Oh, I love my space…not to be mistake with MySpace (which I truly don’t like, virus infested site that it is). Space. Ah! Glorious space. Except I have none.
It starts at home. I’ve mentioned before that I have two cats and one dog. Oh and a mother. I love all four, but sometimes, I just want to be left alone. Really! It doesn’t happen though. If I go outside for a smoke and a little quiet, the dog will come with me. She has to come with me if only to climb in my lap and sleep. Le sigh. Then Mom will show up and with her comes the old evil cat. She wants to talk. My mom, not the cat. I just want some quiet time. She gets upset with me because I’m not talking to her. I’m reading (said with a sneer and a glare). If my brother stops by, like he did this morning, the conversation will go like this:
Bro: Hey, what’s up?
Mom: Not much, baby. At least you talk to me.
Me: Are we really doing this again?
Bro: Hey, she sees you all the time, why does she need to talk to you?
It isn’t like I don’t want to talk to her, but after about five hours of chatting, I really don’t have much left to say. I can’t talk about my writing because she’ll say something like, “Well maybe you need to stop writing about those vampires and werewolves and stuff. Can’t you just rewrite your stories?” God love her.
Then there’s the inside lack of space. If I try to retreat to the bathroom for anything, I’m followed by the young cat and the dog. The dog apparently has an imaginary leash that forces her to follow me. The cat just likes to catch me on the toilet because, let’s face it, I’m a captive audience. I can’t even shower alone. No, she must race me to the bathroom, sit on the counter and stare at me around the shower curtain. When I go to grab shampoo or soap or face wash on the caddy, her little paw snakes out and tries to catch my hand. Why? Because she wants me to pet her! Gah!
Now for the public stage…I don’t like stores because I don’t like people crowding me. I’m not claustrophobic, but I don’t really enjoy people in my space. I remember one time I was trying to pay for my purchases. This lady stood right behind me, less than a foot behind me while I was trying to put my PIN number in the machine. I snarled, “Could I have a little room here?!” She took half a step back. That meant I had to huddle over the machine so she couldn’t get my number and steal the money I don’t have in my account.
I just don’t get how some people have no clue about personal space. I mean, friends and family are allowed closer to me than others (and hot men are almost always welcome to get up close and personal) but if I don’t know you, could you give me some breathing room? I can’t tell the cats and dog this because they just look at me like I’m stupid. My mom, bless her heart, just wants to invade my audio space.
How about you? Are you a space invader, or do you have force fields that protect you from those space invaders? Do you have pets who watch your every move like I would if Gerard Butler suddenly started stripping in front of me?