Shasta and I have a lovely place to live, except for one thing; we have mean neighbors.
Last night, we had some friends over to our apartment for a Passover Dinner thing – yes, we know it was the wrong day. We ate, read the Bible, washed feet and sang.
Out of her courteous nature, Shasta had previously (four days in advance) informed our neighbors that we’d be hosting this little shindig and asked if there were any problems between them and us. We’d had problems with them before when the woman who lives there came over on a weekend night to inform us that at 10:15 she and her husband had been trying to sleep for three hours. When Shasta told the man about our plans, he was very kind to her and didn’t mention anything that needed to be talked through.
So… Passover dinner started at 6:30, and at 8:30, our neighbor lady came up, knocked on the door, and told us to keep it down.
This was before the music started. In fact, it was just after we’d read several chapters out of the Bible (which is a pretty quiet activity in my experience).
We closed the windows and whatnot, but continued on with our night… seeing as IT WAS 8:30!
Then, at about 9:45, while we were singing, she came upstairs and dropped a few F bombs and tried to order me about.
At my core, I have the heart of an athlete, and therefore, girls/women talking to me like that is the kind of thing that normally would at least lead to a series of pitches brushing her off the plate, and in extreme circumstances, might justify a bench-clearing brawl.
I didn’t punch her, I promise.
I said something like, “Can we talk for a sec?”
I was intending to explain to her that we are not legally or morally obligated to stop having friends over because she and her husband have a 7:00 bedtime. I intended to tell her that it was probably better if she call the cops if she truly believes we’re disturbing the peace.
Instead, she yelled profanities at me and I went for a ten-minute barefoot walk to cool off.
However, the only part of this event that redeemed it in my mind is the moment when she was standing about 7 stairs below me (we live on the second floor and she’s on the first), telling me to “shut the *&^% up!” and all I could picture was that moment right before Anakin lost his limbs and ended up bathing in lava, when Obi Wan was standing in a position relatively similar to the one I held against the mean lady, and he was all, “It’s over Anakin. I have the high ground!”
Anakin was like, “You underestimate my power!”
And Obi was like, “Don’t try it.”
But did Anakin listen?
Goal for today: Draft a letter to the office letting them know that I regard this lady’s behavior as harrassment and will be calling TPD next time she yells at me. Maybe the police knocking on her door at 10 pm will help her husband sleep.