Mike Makes My Day. Again.

I'm picking up on some serious vibes that one of my neighbors isn't a fan of mine.  It kind of breaks my heart.

Here are the facts:

• First one of my neighbors threw away my bra.  I didn't think too much about it at the time.  And I even thought they were making up for it with that one time they were super nice.  I'm starting to think that was an isolated incident that should be noted as an exception and not necessarily a rule.
• One Sunday morning I stepped out to find puke on my doorstep.  You're all probably tired of me bringing this up.  But dang that was gross.
• Today I found a cigarette butt that was put out on my welcome mat.  That may not seem like much.  It's most definitely a subtle move.  But it puts the B in subtle.

All morning I've been racking my brain about what I've been doing that is so undesirable.  Have I been playing The Little Mermaid soundtrack too loud?  Was the smell too overwhelming when I baked all those Christmas cookies?  Does it bother you I'm gone darn near twelve hours a day?

It's been bumming me out. 

Today I went to Barnes and Noble to get a new journal.  And fine...I'll admit to the fact that I also bought Russell Brand's memoir.  Judge all you like.

I ran into my friend Mike there.  Not my dear friend Mike that you may be thinking of...but Mike the dude who hangs out at B & N all the time. 

Mike is almost a Bakersfield celebrity.  Kind of like the Little Cesar's dancing cowboy.  You should also know that Mike is autistic.  Or at least that's what I believe it is.  He hangs out at a few different places in town and it doesn't seem to bother most shop owners.  He may come up and ask you what your birthday is and then he'll leave you alone.  For a long time his staple was Borders, which I would frequent, and every time I saw him he'd ask for a hug, ask my birthday, and then leave.  Never wanted to talk more.  Never would say anything again to me when he saw me around the store. 

One time we had a longer conversation.

Mike:  "Good to see you"
(We hug.)
Mike:  "When's your birthday?"
Me:  "July 29th."
Mike:  "And what year?"
Me:  "1987."
Mike:  "And where do you work?"
Me:  "State Farm."
Mike:  "Like a good neighbor state farm is there."
(Mike then turns his back to me.  I pat his shoulder)
Mike:  "What's your name?"
Me:  "Sara."
Mike:  "Sara, do you have kids?"
Me:  "Nope.  No kids."
Mike:  (makes a semi-sympathetic face)  "No kids.  Probably single too?"
Me:  "Yep.  I'm single."
Mike:  "......Well.  At least you have a good job."

Mike keeps it real, yo.  And I can respect that.

Today, he interrupted my why-does-my-neighbor-hate-me pity party.  After going through our usual round of questions about my birthday and where I work Mike had this to say...

Mike:  "I used to see you at Borders before they went belly up."
Me:  "That's right."
Mike:  "I've always thought you were a wonderful person."

Hands down, best compliment ever.  Made my day.  And definitely put things in perspective.  I care a lot less about why my neighbors don't love me. 

To semi-quote Lil Wayne, I have built a house on I don't give a [rip] avenue.