In the Ghetto

I had to kick a crack whore out of my apartment's foyer last night. I came home and she was perched on the ground, sans shoes, digging in her purse. I asked if she was waiting for someone and she looked up at me with glazed and unfocussed eyes and mumbled something incoherent. I went inside my home and tried to get her face out of my head. But then I got mad.

Hells bells! I am not having a crack whore smoke up in my home! I was about get all indignant and bitchy to her as I hustled her out the door, then I stopped. She's someone's daughter, I reminded myself. I work at a social services agency, and my colleagues help women like her all the time. So I was nicer. As I went down the steps I saw her hauling on a crack pipe. I went down and told her the landlord is on his way and if he finds her, he's calling the cops (I did no such thing). She packed up her bag and scurried off into the streets.

I live in a somewhat sketchy part of town, if you haven't guessed already from previous posts. But the 'hood is getting better. More people like me (read: employed and can pay rent) are moving in and a lot of the scummy apartments are being cleaned up and turned into condos. It's going to get better and safer.

It's just sad to see things like that. One Sunday morning last summer, I whizzed open my blinds to see a woman in the dumpster. She was looking for clothes and food. She was younger than my baby brother, but looked as old as my parents. It's a sad state of affairs, and I am trying not to get all NIMBY on the sitch. After all, these girls were someone's baby at some point.

Yours,
xoxoSally