So now the cat was out of the bag. I now knew that Fat Indian Bitch had a monster crush on me for years. Maybe things had been weird since the day I moved in, but this was the point I really started to notice.

As a third shift worker, I relied pretty heavily on routine to feel normal. It didn't take much effort for FIB to pick up on my schedule. Work started at 10 p.m., so I normally got out of bed around 8. After a shower, I normally cooked something simple for "breakfast." Most nights, FIB would offer to cook me something. I didn't want to encourage her, so I always declined. But this wouldn't stop her from asking the next night anyway.

After eating, I'd wash my dishes and then loaf around until it was time to leave. It took me a week or so to notice that FIB and her sidekick Lazy-Eyed Nottie were always a little anxious in that time before I left the house. I finally noticed that they were waiting for me to leave.

The house that Lazy Roomie and I shared was a few kilometers outside of the city, so there was a bit of highway driving for me to get to work. Around here it's not at all uncommon for people to drive as fast as they think they can get away with. So considering that I try to stay in the same neighborhood as the speed limit, it's almost a daily experience that someone passes me at a much higher speed. After a few days I realized I was getting passed by the same car. That's right… FIB.

The reason FIB and LEN would sit around looking anxious is that they were waiting for me to leave so they could follow me to work. Well, sort of follow. Apparently I don't drive fast enough for FIB's taste, so she'd pass me and wait for me at work.

When I'd get to work, there she'd be, sitting in her car at the edge of the lot. Sometimes I'd stand in front of the building smoking with a coworker before our shift started. FIB would watch, stalker-style, until I went inside. God only knows what she'd do after I was in the building.

The place I was working is a department store. The store closed at 10 p.m., so we were locked in until our lunch break. When lunch time rolled around the shift manager would unlock the doors long enough for anyone who wanted out for lunch to leave. As I said, I'm a smoker, so I always wanted out.

During non-business hours, the parking lot lights farthest from the building would be turned off, so it took me a couple of days to notice that FIB was still in the parking lot. She'd just be sitting there a few hundred yards away, in the dark, waiting for me to come out.

My coworkers thought this was the funniest damn thing they'd seen in a long time. In fact, it was one of the guys on my crew that gave this girl the nickname Fat Indian Bitch. (See? It's not just the blog. My life was filled with cryptic codenames long before I started blogging.)

Anyway, they all thought it was hilarious. I was normally wondering how I might get a restraining order against someone who lived in my house.