StreetAdvisor - your street, your voice

Jane and Tim live in Morse.

Soon after I moved to Morse, Jane would stop by my home and just walk in the door, without knocking. It irritated my adolescent son when he was still in his underwear. I was clear in letting her know that her unannounced visits were becoming a problem for us.I requested several times that she give a call first. Jane continued doing the same thing and that’s when we began locking our door.

Within weeks I began hearing things that I had discussed with Jane, through the mouths of others. When people began asking me about things that I didn’t personally share with them, it was strange and unusual. Jane’s intentions were clear: to tell my 87 year old landlady that I was being sued by my previous landlord, and leaving out the part that I had broken my lease to make a move to Morse, was mean. Conversations between my elderly, ill (and hard of hearing) landlady became cumbersome and exhausting.

When Jane introduced me to various folks in the town of Morse, her descriptions of these neighbours baffled me. When I was introduced to Bonnie, Jane said that I ought to watch out for her. When Jane introduced me to the Miller Family, she held a family picture in her hands, pointing to faces and labeling each and all with various mental illnesses stemming from Ralphs alcoholism. When we went to visit my landlady one day, she pointed out where the secret key was and told me that it would be really easy for me to rip her off. I was too stunned to puke.

Once the school year began, Jane came to my home and announced to my daughters that she wouldn’t see them again until winter vacation. My daughter Mia was especially saddened by this news, she really liked Jane and felt a deep loss for several days. The following week Jane showed up at our house again which left my daughters perplexed and sad all over again. I guess the first goodbye was so great that she came back for an encore.

In October, a few days after I let Jane know that our friendship was over, she called my soon-to-be ex-husband and told him that I had stolen something from her house. This was especially timely; I was sitting on the deck at his apartment. When he did get off of the phone, he told me that was his third call from Jane that day. I asked him why she had his cell phone number and, to this day, have not had my question answered. The good doctor and I were in the midst of divorce, the longest one in the history of Johnson County. Apparently she wanted to stir things up there too.

One evening in December, while I was over at Harv’s house, sharing a dinner with my daughters, Jane’s husband Tim, stopped by and told my daughters how much Jane had missed seeing them and asked, “Why hasn’t your mother seen Jane?” When my oldest daughter responded that her mother needed her own space, it was as good of an answer as any. Jane had said “goodbye” several weeks earlier and I had no reason to explain to my children why, how or when I chose to end my friendship with Jane. Until today, the only person that knew why, was Jane: I didn’t like her gossipy, lying and controlling nature.

Jane would leave her driveway at about the same time we did each school morning. Throughout the icy winter months Jane enjoyed the thrill of following my car dangerously close at high speeds. I never mentioned that to my daughters in the back seat. I didn’t want them looking back, I didn’t want them to know that adults could behave so badly.

In the spring I received a phone call from my landlady telling me to clean up junk in my yard. When I asked her to specify what junk she was referring to she said,”you know what junk.” She lived across the street from me, had a great view of the property. Did she see something out of place … I certainly didn’t. I asked her again what exactly she was speaking about; there were two sleds and snow on the ground … was that it? It was one of several weird calls where I thought my landlady was going dementia. Incidentally, I had injured my back two days before Christmas, and for a time, placed my trash bags near the back door. Many inches of snow covered them, they froze solid, and I waited until it warmed up to take care of them. There was a mess for a time, weeks before; out of sight and behind my house. My landlady didn’t have dementia, Jane amuses herself by reporting her interpretation of situations she has little or no connection with and no knowledge of.

Now, several weeks since we’ve moved, Jane has left several angry comments on the Morse Musings blog, posing as Rauel Ruiz. It’s easy to track the IP address of those who leave comments and learn their real identity. Jane expects that I should publish her comments, posing as a fictional character. I’ve refused so far and Jane has become more warped than ever before. I’d like for my readers to see this, if you’d like. Let me know if you would enjoy reading the twisted and malicious rants of Jane, I’ll email them to you. Is she still mad because I don’t like her, or is she just mad.