It's Monday and I'm in a mood!

I fixed my crazy clock - isn't it cute? All it needed was a new clock movement (cheaper than I expected) and it's good as new. It had fallen prey to the cats while it was hanging on my office wall at my old house. It was perfect in my pepto-bismol pink office with the Mary Engelbreit border and framed ME prints on the walls. Very cute room - I loved it. Tim paneled the lower half of the walls under the chair rail to avoid hanging the cute ME wallpaper I had for them. If only Aggie hadn't eaten my extremely expensive wool Mary Engelbreit rug when she was a puppy, my office would have qualified for a spot in Home Companion magazine! Oh well...

My mood, however, has nothing to do with my clock or Mary Engelbreit. Did you ever know someone who had exceedingly poor judgment, made incredibly stupid decisions on an almost daily basis and could never see how any of this blatant stupidity was responsible for making their own miserable life a living hell? Well, I have had it up to here (hand way over my head) with this acquaintance who has somehow come to the erroneous conclusion that we are friends and I care one whit about his tumultuous life and paranoid delusions. Honestly, the man is bi-polar and seriously needs to get some professional help, but he is too busy blaming all of his problems on his ex-wife, his father, his employer, the police - I'm sure he'd find a way to blame the President if he could. It's sad, really - and while it is not normally in my nature to be mean, I cannot risk my business or personal reputation on being associated with this idiot. I once worked in the same office where he was a mortgage broker with questionable ethics and I really hoped never to see him again when I opened my own business. Somehow he found me and every interaction I have had with him over the past two years has been a fiasco: he wrote me a bad check, wanted to share the office space (which prompted a resounding NO from me) and his most recent disaster was a run-in with the local police which ended in his arrest. He has deluded himself into thinking that he is a modern-day Job and that God is simply testing him. Yes, I believe that God tests us, but this guy is just a grown man who ought to know better than bringing these things upon himself. This past week, after he was released from his nine day incarceration (about which I heard all of the horrific - and probably imagined - details) he walked from his apartment to my office to use the phone, which I didn't mind, until he called the police hotline to give a tip about some impending drug deal (yikes!) and then called Child Protective Services to threaten the caseworker who wrote a derogatory report about him with regard to custody of his son (his poor ex-wife!). Then he called a bunch of used furniture shops trying to sell the furniture from his rented furnished apartment so that he can raise enough cash to get his car out of impound. I know this sounds like I'm babbling - but that's what the words in my head are doing - frantically running around and around, mentally kicking me for not telling this guy to get lost when he walked in the door. Why can't I just be mean?