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Oh the memories
Maureen Johnson's letter-writing neighbour brings back some memories from my previous flats.
The woman two doors down from me who had so many plants that I had to turn sideways to walk past them to get to my flat, and who accused me of speeding in the parking lot all the time and thus endangering her life (yeah, when she looked down on my car from her first floor window and decided that I was going too fast, she was in so much danger.) She stopped getting at me for the speeding when she left a note (in huge letters and red texta, just like Maureen's neighbour!) telling me to give her one good reason she shouldn't report me to the authorities. I went and knocked on the door and said "Megan, I have your one good reason: I wasn't speeding. I had my eye on the speedometer the whole time." It was such a pity she was like that, because I wanted to like her: she was a goth cat-lover gardener PWD.
I also had this conversation with her, about how I had to walk past her flat to get to the stairs to leave the building (there was only one staircase, and my flat was on the end opposite it.)
Her: You probably don't realise it, but I'm in bed all the time, and you keep waking me up walking past there.
Me: ...Um, are you complaining about me walking?
Her: Yes, I am.
Me: Just checking.
The man in the same block who hated the airplane noise (we weren't all that near their flight path, but he hated any airplane noise at all) so he used lights and the sun and a mirror to try to scare them off. This didn't work, but it sure as fuck annoyed me when his reflecting lights got in my window.
Whoever the fuck it was who drove their car through the front window of one of the ground floor people's flats.
The woman downstairs from the flat where![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nomnivore and I lived, who believed that the sound of me or nomnivore walking across the carpeted floor in bare feet constitutes 'stomping' and is unacceptable. When she came up to yell at us the first time, She was a pediatric nurse, and sickly sweet to us at first, but when she came up to have a little talk with us about it the first time, I had a really bad feeling and wouldn't let her in our space, and she stuck her foot in the door (thus provisionally confirming the bad feeling) and then totally confirmed my first impression by hating us completely after that because she just wanted to be friends and why are we so mean and so loud (the single evidence of meanness was that I didn't invite her in that one time) and that we are (she said this, I swear, in so many words) the WORST NEIGHBOURS SHE EVER HAD. I told her that if that was the case, she was really lucky.
The elderly woman next door to the woman mentioned in the previous paragraph, who had a crusade against junk mail, to the point of going through her neighbours' mailboxes and throwing out their junk mail too. Unfortunately, she was not good at distinguishing between unaddressed bulk commercial mail and correctly posted personal or business correspondence.
Right now I don't have a particular beef with anyone in my apartment block (except the smoke alarms, but they're not a person), which possibly means I'm the annoying neighbour. I still have a fantasy of living somewhere far enough away from anyone else that I don't hear their conversations, arguments, music, crying babies, or construction sounds.
The woman two doors down from me who had so many plants that I had to turn sideways to walk past them to get to my flat, and who accused me of speeding in the parking lot all the time and thus endangering her life (yeah, when she looked down on my car from her first floor window and decided that I was going too fast, she was in so much danger.) She stopped getting at me for the speeding when she left a note (in huge letters and red texta, just like Maureen's neighbour!) telling me to give her one good reason she shouldn't report me to the authorities. I went and knocked on the door and said "Megan, I have your one good reason: I wasn't speeding. I had my eye on the speedometer the whole time." It was such a pity she was like that, because I wanted to like her: she was a goth cat-lover gardener PWD.
I also had this conversation with her, about how I had to walk past her flat to get to the stairs to leave the building (there was only one staircase, and my flat was on the end opposite it.)
Her: You probably don't realise it, but I'm in bed all the time, and you keep waking me up walking past there.
Me: ...Um, are you complaining about me walking?
Her: Yes, I am.
Me: Just checking.
The man in the same block who hated the airplane noise (we weren't all that near their flight path, but he hated any airplane noise at all) so he used lights and the sun and a mirror to try to scare them off. This didn't work, but it sure as fuck annoyed me when his reflecting lights got in my window.
Whoever the fuck it was who drove their car through the front window of one of the ground floor people's flats.
The woman downstairs from the flat where
nomnivore and I lived, who believed that the sound of me or nomnivore walking across the carpeted floor in bare feet constitutes 'stomping' and is unacceptable. When she came up to yell at us the first time, She was a pediatric nurse, and sickly sweet to us at first, but when she came up to have a little talk with us about it the first time, I had a really bad feeling and wouldn't let her in our space, and she stuck her foot in the door (thus provisionally confirming the bad feeling) and then totally confirmed my first impression by hating us completely after that because she just wanted to be friends and why are we so mean and so loud (the single evidence of meanness was that I didn't invite her in that one time) and that we are (she said this, I swear, in so many words) the WORST NEIGHBOURS SHE EVER HAD. I told her that if that was the case, she was really lucky.The elderly woman next door to the woman mentioned in the previous paragraph, who had a crusade against junk mail, to the point of going through her neighbours' mailboxes and throwing out their junk mail too. Unfortunately, she was not good at distinguishing between unaddressed bulk commercial mail and correctly posted personal or business correspondence.
Right now I don't have a particular beef with anyone in my apartment block (except the smoke alarms, but they're not a person), which possibly means I'm the annoying neighbour. I still have a fantasy of living somewhere far enough away from anyone else that I don't hear their conversations, arguments, music, crying babies, or construction sounds.
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(We have responded by quietly refusing to weed on that side of the property. You only reap what you sow, lady, or in this case you reap what I refuse to unsow because you poisoned my damn grapevines.)
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I chuckled at your reasons for wanting to like the first woman. I, too, am guilty of wanting to like people who have some kind of weirdness or a minority status or two in common with me. Then again, being a cat-lover, goth or PWD don't change someone's likeability.
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