Maybe I should have said yes.

I left work at 5:45 today.  Whenever this happens I wonder what people who regularly leave work at this hour do.  Especially if they don't work out compulsively.  Signs point to me never really knowing the answer to this first hand ...

Anyway, when I get out of work at 5:45 I walk home form the train, go for a run and then head to Trader Joe's where I fill one more bag than I can really carry.  Leaving me with a dilemma.  I could park the car in my building's driveway, get a cart to bring the stuff up in the elevator, unload the bags in my apartment, go back down the elevator to the car, drive the car half a block to the garage, park and back track to the building.  Or I could carry the stuff from the garage to my building.

Yeah, this is boring so far.  But stick with me.

It was past nine and I was hungry, so I went the fast route and parked the car in the garage.  As I was unloading the bags I realized that getting them to my apartment was going to be rough and I sort of hoped that someone would offer to help.  I got into the garage elevator and was consolidating from five bags to four when someone (ahem, a guy) got in and, in an answer to my prayers, offered to help.

And I said "No, I got it.  Just have to get organized."  

Why?

Because I am a stubborn brat and don't like to accept help from strangers.  And if I were to justify, I'll point out that this garage serves at least 3 buildings ... what if he didn't live in mine?  I wasn't going to ask him to go out of his way.

As we walked toward the buildings (me struggling with my 800 lbs of groceries and wondering if his offer to help still stood) we discussed the perennial park in the driveway and get a cart v. save time by carrying stuff form the garage dilemma and I noted that he wasn't ugly.  It had gotten a bit chilly and the random guy was walking fast and I was struggling to keep up and not stop to readjust the bags.  Turns out he does live in my building and ... on my floor.  In fact, he lives on one side of the elevators.  The other side of the elevators is the trash room.  And I live across from the trash room (its not bad, i swear, occasionally loud when people dumb their glass recyclables in the bin, but not smelly, for real).  So we're very, very close neighbors.

And as we were realizing that we lived on the same floor and discussing whether it was better to live next to the elevator or across from the trash room and commenting on how I should have accepted his help in the first place I was wondering if I should have said yes.  And I was wondering if we should exchange names in addition to apartment numbers (he's 12X, I'm 12I ... its sweet) and how I've lived here for 10 months and only in the last month have I (sort of) introduced myself to any neighbors (12X and the lady who has 12H as a pied a tier).  Of course even if I had let him help me with the groceries or we had exchanged names, anything more than random building friends with violate a Cardinal Rule of Dating (keep it out of the building).  But still ... should I have said yes?

In other news, it took some pita chips, cheese enchiladas from Trader Joe's and some fresh Mango ... but I'm finally full.  Finally.