A Knock on the Door (pt. 4)
Another knock on the door. In the afternoon, about 10 days ago.
"Did you call the landlord?" Yolanda asked in an angry tone, as I opened the door. Unsure of what she was talking about, I replied that I had not. Things had been a little more quiet for the first week of July, and we hadn't heard much from our backyard neighbors. No kids, no interruptions. It was nice, but I was starting to wonder what was going on. Usually they were everywhere--riding bikes and playing up and down our shared drive, neighbors' lawns, and the sidewalk across the street.
She gave me a disgusted look. "You did too. You called my landlord and complained about the traffic going back to our house."
Now, Yolanda doesn't have a car, but she did get her share of visitors. And at odd hours of the night like 2 am, but I never considered it a big enough nuisance to make a stink about. We did share a drive after all. It was the constant doorbell-ringing and ungrateful attitude that bothered me. So I tried to explain to her again that no, I really did not call the landlord.
She wasn't buying it. "I talked to the landlord. He said it was you. And I can have whoever the **** I want back there." I could feel my blood pressure rising, but tried to stay calm. She started walking away, and added: "You must have called DHS too, complaining about my kids playing in the street at 1:00 in the morning. I can file harassment charges." This was getting to be a little too much. It's probably a good thing that someone called DHS, but yet again, it wasn't me. I followed after her, really growing angry that she would make a threat like that.
"I didn't call the landlord. I didn't call anyone. If I had a problem with you I would talk to you." I said, voice rising. This was true, not so much to the extent that I didn't have a problem with her (which I actually did now), but in that I would talk to her before calling her landlord. If he told her that I complained then the record needed to be set straight. I asked her for the landlord's number. She told me she didn't have it but would get it for me. Maybe she was realizing that I wasn't the one who complained.
Around suppertime I went back to her house to get the number. I also wanted to find out what Yolanda's problem with me was. I wanted to give her a chance to speak her mind, and to tell her that I only wanted to be a good neighbor. And I sure didn't need any trouble from her, whatever that might be. There was a pause before the door opened. One of the children answered the door. "Mom's at the store. What do you want?" I knew it was an excuse not to talk to me, so I told her I would return later. I tried again in a couple hours. No one came to the door, even though I could hear people inside as I approached.
I went back the next evening and the house appeared to be empty. Apparently I wasn't going to get the landlord's number from Yolanda.
(to be continued…)
"Did you call the landlord?" Yolanda asked in an angry tone, as I opened the door. Unsure of what she was talking about, I replied that I had not. Things had been a little more quiet for the first week of July, and we hadn't heard much from our backyard neighbors. No kids, no interruptions. It was nice, but I was starting to wonder what was going on. Usually they were everywhere--riding bikes and playing up and down our shared drive, neighbors' lawns, and the sidewalk across the street.
She gave me a disgusted look. "You did too. You called my landlord and complained about the traffic going back to our house."
Now, Yolanda doesn't have a car, but she did get her share of visitors. And at odd hours of the night like 2 am, but I never considered it a big enough nuisance to make a stink about. We did share a drive after all. It was the constant doorbell-ringing and ungrateful attitude that bothered me. So I tried to explain to her again that no, I really did not call the landlord.
She wasn't buying it. "I talked to the landlord. He said it was you. And I can have whoever the **** I want back there." I could feel my blood pressure rising, but tried to stay calm. She started walking away, and added: "You must have called DHS too, complaining about my kids playing in the street at 1:00 in the morning. I can file harassment charges." This was getting to be a little too much. It's probably a good thing that someone called DHS, but yet again, it wasn't me. I followed after her, really growing angry that she would make a threat like that.
"I didn't call the landlord. I didn't call anyone. If I had a problem with you I would talk to you." I said, voice rising. This was true, not so much to the extent that I didn't have a problem with her (which I actually did now), but in that I would talk to her before calling her landlord. If he told her that I complained then the record needed to be set straight. I asked her for the landlord's number. She told me she didn't have it but would get it for me. Maybe she was realizing that I wasn't the one who complained.
Around suppertime I went back to her house to get the number. I also wanted to find out what Yolanda's problem with me was. I wanted to give her a chance to speak her mind, and to tell her that I only wanted to be a good neighbor. And I sure didn't need any trouble from her, whatever that might be. There was a pause before the door opened. One of the children answered the door. "Mom's at the store. What do you want?" I knew it was an excuse not to talk to me, so I told her I would return later. I tried again in a couple hours. No one came to the door, even though I could hear people inside as I approached.
I went back the next evening and the house appeared to be empty. Apparently I wasn't going to get the landlord's number from Yolanda.
(to be continued…)
posted by Alan at 11:38 AM
5 Comments:
Alan, Alan, Alan...
You are driving me crazy with this story.
Brian.
It's that bad, huh? :)
We missed you all last night. Did your washer get fixed?
Wow, hope the neighbor situation gets better...
Jenica
On the first trip (at lunchtime), we found out the pump motor was shot, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to get a replacement.
On the second trip (at 4:30), we found out the motor he had in stock wouldn't work on our 10-year-old washer.
On the third trip, he came with a used washer he sold us for a decent price. It will get us by. That was at 7:45, so we were bummed we couldn't make it over. Hope you had a great evening!
Been coming back just to read this crazy story:) See you thurs.
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