Advice sought, taken

I talked to Margaret, my friend who I consult on such things as, "What do I do? My new neighbor may be under the impression that I am a stalker."

Oh my God. I can't even begin to explain my horror and embarrassment. God. Sweet God. Margaret and I couldn't stop laughing. That's the good thing about a quality friend: good-natured mockery, laughter, and then a solution.

She said: lay low for a few days. Maybe on Tuesday or Wednesday I should whip up a friendly banana bread or a batch of cookies or something. I should knock on the door and act as if dead and unable to move, making motions only with my mouth, and only loud enough so she and she alone can hear, smoothly offering the baked good and expressing muted gladness for the arrival of a young person in the building with whom friendliness may occur. Then I should back away and, you know, wait for the new neighbor lady to make a friendly overature on a later date.

Perhaps later - much later - I can extend an invitation to The Wrapping Party^tm or maybe snacks and a movie.

Must not seem insane. Must appear totally normal. Must stop scaring neighbor.