Malicious

My ex-fiance, for those of you not following along, is a bed ridden 5'6" King Kong, maybe 450 lb when he moved in and was more hopeful then of some physical recovery. He fell once, only once, in my bathroom, due to singular distinctions for which I am seemingly fated. Why I initially agreed to marry him? I thought my control would be reward enough. I was wrong, and hurt big ugly burly baby spic/dago from the Bronx whose intelligence is keener than my own on certain things. He was a Bronx cop, coke addict and he thinks Karina falls under the same rubric, and he may be right. My instincts about the woman were that I was being played, not that she hurt me, not yet.

She somehow was let in the building yesterday and came pounding on my door, like so many menacing drug users of my past, and telephoned twice, looking for a reference, which, perhaps to you may seem petty, but I refused her. This isn't simply about my personal correspondence. She may have discarded official documentation which may cause me undue hardship down the road. I'm worried now, and I hired her, using Craigslist on the advice of my veterinary technician. This is why I've kept myself off the Medicaid system, to stay away from this.