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Aaron N. Tubbs

Dragon chaser.

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I just yelled at an old lady for twenty minutes.

In the end I was being simultaneously prayed for and threatened with complaints to the management association. At the same time. It was an interesting experience.

I pretend otherwise, but I’m actually a pretty nice guy. I’m polite, patient, and I listen. I keep notes. I’ve done everything I can to placate my neighbor, at my personal expense, discomfort, and inconvenience. My poor HVAC serviceman had to field her complaints and questions, and I tipped him for his pain. He deserved it. He explained everything I had, and she still will not relent. Every time I solve one of her problems, she finds another to complain about. I have pages and pages of complaints from her. I’m not going to digress into the details.

I’ve been getting her daily voice mails. While I was on vacation she kept calling at seven and eight in the morning. There are daily letters under my doormat.

I’m being harassed by an old lady!

I should get a restraining order.

I wish I was a truly mean person, like she must think I am. Then I could get through this without feeling bad, and without caring. But I do care. I can’t fall asleep in the morning after she calls. I stay up at night thinking about it. But I don’t know what to do any longer. I stopped responding politely to the daily messages and tried just ignoring them, this did not solve the problem.

So, on to plan C. I’ve suspended my kindness. I am no longer acquiescent. I blew up at her tonight and told her she can feel free to call the association. That all she does is complain. That I’ve done everything I can, and that I’ve solved her every issue, only to be rewarded with more complaints. That her claim that I’ve done nothing to try to help her is baseless and ignorant of the facts, and that I have documentation from her in the form of her incessant letters to indicate otherwise. That she’s the single most irritating neighbor I’ve ever encountered. In my life.

So now it’s “going to be between me and God in the end, and I should keep that in mind.” Is that a threat? I don’t even know any longer.

I don’t know why I care. I wish I didn’t. I’m going to go hang out with my sick kitten, and make sure she doesn’t pick at her stitches. I feel sad just looking at her. She looks so miserable. And then I need to wake up because there’s an 8AM showing tomorrow.