A Case of Misplaced Kindness

I helped an elderly neighbor, Mrs. Thompson, with her groceries last week. She's been living alone for years and I saw she needed help carrying them in from the car. I thought it was just a one-time thing, but every day since then, she leaves her bags by my door, waiting for me to pick them up. She calls me over, waves when I walk past. Sometimes she even asks if I'm free to stay and chat while she cooks tea. But truth is, I'm working from home these days and can't handle interruptions. Every time I see her, there's a stack of mail or an extra package left for me to sign for. Yesterday was the last straw. She brought over a quilt she knitted as a 'thank you,' saying it reminded her of my grandmother who passed away a decade ago. The truth is, every day feels like a chore now. I never asked for this and feel guilty about rejecting her but can't handle it anymore.