Neighborhood Idiots

A Mr. Rogers song plays in my brain right now – changed a little from, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…” to

He’s an unbelievable idiot
an unbelievable idiot
Next door neighbor
Stupid neighbor.

First let me explain that Next Door Neighbor is not MY neighbor, but my daughter’s neighbor. My daughter had just given birth to her youngest child, and I was at her home helping her get her other children back and forth to school, preparing meals, cleaning up messes, and getting caught up on her never ending explosion of laundry.

As we sprinted out of the house to pick up her oldest daughter from school, we first had to get the baby into her car seat and then strap her son into his booster seat. We were already running so late that we didn’t notice Next Door Neighbor rushing toward us.

I heard, “Is that your truck?”

My daughter heard, “Is that your trash?”

So I asked my daughter, “Is that one of your husband’s friends’ trucks?” I knew the truck didn’t belong to her husband, but I thought that maybe he was keeping his friend’s truck in front of Flustered Neighbor’s house for some reason.

And my daughter replied, “Yes.”

Oh. OK.

I continued to get my grandson buckled in while the guy babbled on to my daughter. The hands on the clock whizzed by as he continued his rant. “We’ve run out of time, Ignoramus!” I wanted to scream, but didn’t, because I have more class than that.

My daughter came back to the car and told me we had to move the trash across three parking spaces past the furthest parking space in front of her house.

“Why? What is wrong with this guy?”

“Because he needs the space.”

Nothing bothers me more than when something doesn’t make sense. “That makes no sense. How could YOUR trash which is sitting on YOUR lawn, bother him so much that we have to move it all the way across three driveways?”

Whatever. We were in a rush and my daughter had just had a C-section. I refused to allow her to move the trash in her condition, so I volunteered to drag my arthritic back over to the heavy garbage and move it across three parking spaces just to appease Strange Idiot Neighbor.

“You finish getting the kids into the car and I’ll take care of moving the trash,” I told my daughter, “even though the whole idea is STUPID and makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE WHATSOEVER and MY BACK HURTS!”

The filled-to-the-brim-and-beyond garbage can, the largest receptacle made on Earth, weighed approximately 6,000 pounds, so when I tried to move it, after much labor just getting it to move across the grass and onto the pavement, and after exhaustion set in and pain spread across my back, perhaps because he finally noticed that after so much effort, I managed only to move the garbage off the grass and into the first driveway, Idiot Neighbor asked me if I needed help.

Well, you could have asked me that BEFORE I drained every last bit of energy I had to get it off the grass, so no thank you. As he turned to walk to his front porch, I ran to the car, got in, and raced to the school, leaving the garbage can just next to the grass in the first driveway.

As we sped away, because by now, we should have been at the school five minutes before, my daughter caught a glimpse of Idiot Neighbor standing on his front porch with raised shoulders and upward-held palms.

“WHAT AN IDIOT!” I told my daughter. “Why does a plot of land big enough to hold a garbage can bother him so much? Seriously, does he really need the space THAT badly? What could he possible need a 2500 square inch plot of land for anyway? Was the garbage blocking his view of the truck? How trucking stupid!”

Later, when my daughter told her husband about the absurd request, he became infuriated. So he marched next door to find out why Idiot Neighbor wanted US to move OUR garbage can from OUR lawn. And didn’t he know that his wife had just given birth and that his mother-in-law was recovering from cancer and had a bad back?

Perhaps I, instead of my daughter, should have spoken to Neighbor that afternoon. Apparently giving birth affects hearing. Neighbor wanted the truck moved, not the trash. And the truck belonged to the person who lived in the apartment above my daughter’s home.

I nearly broke my back over a little miscommunication, but it all makes sense now, though I can’t help but laugh when I look at the scenario from Neighbor’s point of view.

“Why are they so concerned about moving a trash can from the grass onto the pavement? Can’t they see that all they have to do is drive the truck straight forward across all three driveways. Do they think the trash can is in the way of the truck?…Where are they going? They haven’t even moved the truck yet! Stupid Neighbors!”

“Won’t you please? Won’t you please? Please won’t you be my neighbor?” (Mr. Fred Rogers)

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5 thoughts on “Neighborhood Idiots”

  1. Theresa, isn’t it funny how every neighborhood has an idiot neighbor? Although this guy seems to be just a bit misunderstood but you never know, he might have more up his sleeve. Congratulations on your new addition.

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