Love Thy Neighbor

Tell us about your Worst Neighbor (or best), ever.

I would like to think we are easy folks to live by. We rarely borrow a cup of sugar, but are willing to help when needed. There is always the neighborly wave and chat at the mailbox. (Which reminds me – our mailman takes really good care of our stuff and goes the extra mile. When I see him elsewhere, he even remembers my name. ) There have been a few neighbors, however, that have ranged from “Ugh” to “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Apartment life: Upstairs neighbor . . . frequent mid-night booty calls complete with noises and sounds – over and over again! Such a relief when she moved; however, she was replaced by a middle-aged couple who chased each other around fighting and screaming at each other. So which is worse?

Vantage Lane: We do have a neighbor living behind us who starts up his motorcycle at 5:45 a.m. and lets it warm up for about 5 minutes. However, our neighbor who shares our back wall is the one I want to spotlight – a grown man-son living with his parents. He’s taken up residence in their garage.

A few years ago we had 5 yards of primo soil brought in for our garden area and had it dumped on the street at the side of our house. It was out there a couple of days before Devin could bring his front loader over. (I know. . .) Even though we live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, I was concerned about someone helping themselves to it.

On the second night, I woke up around midnight. I went downstairs and happened to look out the living room window and saw a shadow of a man digging in our dirt. I called out to Cate, and he got his hand-held spotlight with a million candle watt power. He lit up the dirt hill and no one was there by then . . . he ran up the street to look around the corner. On shining the light down the wall, he saw a hunched over, rat-like figure scurrying away with his wheelbarrow of treasure.

“Where are you going with my dirt?”

“I didn’t know this was your dirt.”

“Well, whose dirt do you think it is sitting out next to my house?”

“I needed some dirt for my flower beds, and I just thought the city dumped the dirt in the neighborhood.”

“No, you know that’s my dirt . . . You’re my neighbor – I would have given you some if you had asked for it.”

He then apologized and offered to put it back, but Cate said “no, but don’t take anymore.”

(This is the neighbor our family helped when they had some graffiti on their side wall. And we also complied with their request to cut away some of the roots of one of our Mondale trees because it was affecting their yard. Never mind that their water was eroding away our side of the brick wall.)

A few days later, this guy brought over one of his works of art, along with $10.00. That should about cover all the wheelbarrows of dirt he hauled away.

(Truthfully, they do have some very artistic iron sculptures displayed in their yard.)

Next Week: Splurge vs. Steal . . . things you are willing to splurge your hard-earned cash on and things that are down right painful to spend money on. (and no doctors, insurance, and taxes). This one is easy, so someone better join me in cyberspace.