GARH!

I'm sitting at my table, typing away on my laptop, minding my own beeswax. I was sort of expecting this dude from Freecycle to come pick up some Doc Martens' that are on the porch. (I found out they were made in China: that explains why the size is totally off. Says women's 9 but it's more like a women's 10.)
At any rate, I hear a knock on the door and I go look: it's my brother. I'm now deflated. Immediately I go on the defensive. I look around to see what he might make fun of or pick apart.
He sits on the couch and begins opening a package. He's got some kind of JB - Weld like stuff he wants to put on the muffler to see if that will stop the noise the muffler makes on the truck .
A dog is barking across the street, and he says "What dog is that?"
How do I know? I can't see it any better than he can. I say "It's a dog, a dog I'm going to kill one day (It barks a LOT) ... I'm going to feed it anti-freeze and have some peace!"
He says "Don't be killing no dogs."
THIS from a guy who regularly shoots dogs that come on his property. With a HIGH powered rifle. I've seen him do it, I've helped him bury the dogs.
So I say "I'm NOT GOING TO KILL it, good grief! I'm just fantasizing about it."
IT only goes downhill from there. He wants something to lay on to get under the truck. Sorry, I'm fresh out of cardboard boxes, and I don't have a creeper on me either. He uses the rug on the front porch. It's not a great rug, but it isn't mine either...
He parks the truck in the alley way beside the house. I say "You parked in an alley!" He says, "I know."
I say "People come through that alley a lot. If they come down and the truck is in the way, they'll drive around it on our lawn or the other people's.."
So he and i push the truck off the gravel alley way, into the grass I didn't want anyone driving on.
By this time I'm pretty frustrated, and he goes in the house to wash his hands so I have to follow him in to make sure he doesn't get grease all over my kitchen. I hand him paper towels and tell him to use the DAWN. I don't want grease streaks all over the kitchen.
It's a really nice little clean house. He comes in with his shoes on, tracking grass, and grease on his hands, and disturbs my writing. And didn't call first. He just shows up and takes over my house. Because I have his truck. He feels he can do as he likes.
I can't wait to be free from obligation to be meek around him.
When he took the keys out of the truck he tried to bring my water bottle in with him. I said to leave it in the truck. He could NOT comprehend why I want to leave a water bottle in the truck when it is so hot outside.
I told him to put the water bottle back in the truck. He didn't want to at all. How can I explain to him that decades of living in Arizona have made it mandatory for me to have water in the truck at ALL times or I panic?
He would just laugh.
He left without saying very much. I fear he felt unwelcome. I fear that he was, in fact, less than welcome. I don't understand why he can't call first, or why he feels the need to pop in every other day these days. It's so uncomfortable when he comes into my tidy little house, he and his brusque ways and his making fun of my ways.
I said to him "Well, I'm sure you have things that you do that don't make sense to other people, but you do them anyway. This water bottle is just one of those things."
He went on to say "I can see it in winter, but not summer."
He wont let it go. I can't take it ...some days.
And he wanted me to use the little plastic vial the putty came in for some kind of storage. "Keep this, you can put something in here to store it."
Yes, that's exactly what I want to use for storage in my house, a plastic vial that had toxic putty-paste akin to JB Weld in it.