Won’t You (NOT) Be My Neighbor….

2 Apr

As I had mentioned in my previous post, I am adjusting to apartment life.

Our most recent horror story Adventure is all Jill’s fault.

I mean, 100% her fault.

Thanks to her, we are now in hiding in our home.

Let me explain. It’s crazy.

My crazy roommate with the biggest heart on the planet says it went down like this….

Well, I was on the balcony smoking and I saw her knocking on the door of the apartment across the way and I told her, ‘I know she has to be home, I just saw her. I don’t think she’s left in the past five minutes….” Then Mrs. Rogers (very friendly neighbor) and I started talking. It was all downhill from there.

Um, has it occurred to anyone else that there was very likely a very good reason that the OTHER neighbor was pretending not to be home????

Yeah. Thought so.

We did the neighborly thing and went to her apartment Thursday afternoon to have a drink. This is where I should mention that it’s NOT just Mrs. Rogers abiding in our (previously) peaceful apartment community. Mrs. Rogers comes complete with a Mr. Rogers and two small children, aged 3 and 5. Mr. Rogers happens to be hearing impaired and speaks VERY loudly. It also makes for an uneasy conversation when one forgets that Mr. Rogers has to read one’s lips in order to have any idea what is going on.

The children are tiny monsters, but I will get back to that.

I was able to bail out early on the cocktail hour due to my urgent need to get to work as soon as possible.

(Red flags yet, anyone???)

It’s my understanding that in my absence (YAY WORK!!!!) the entire family spent the entire evening at our apartment. That was okay with me, because I wasn’t here.

It just so happens, however, that I was awake earlier than usual (prior to 4 pm) on Friday because of very important work business that had to be attended to immediately. (Okay, that’s kind of a lie. Mostly it was really great gossip, and sometimes that is even good enough to maintain consciousness when one doesn’t necessarily want to do so…)

There was a knock at the door at approximately 3 pm, which I ignored, because anyone who knows me knows darn well they might want to call if they think they  are going to actually rouse me from my peaceful afternoon slumber.

When the knocking continued at a frighteningly incessant pace, I began to be concerned that perhaps someone on the other side of that door was bleeding profusely and needed me to call 911.

So I answered the door.

In my pajamas.

With my hair sticking straight up.

It was Mrs. Rogers. And her two devil spawn children.

Me: Um, hi. Is everything okay?

Her: Oh, did I wake you?

Me: Um, kind of. I work at night and I tend to sleep until about 4.

Her: PM?!?!?!?

Me: Yes. Is everything okay?

Her: Oh my gosh, I have anxiety, I have this awful hangover, and I just feel horrid. Can I come in for just five minutes?

Me: Oh, um…uh….ah….. I suppose…..

Her: Oh, thank you so much, I just really need some big person company.

***Yeah. Seriously.***

The next two hours were filled with me chasing her children around the apartment (the one I live in, not hers) prying food and glass items out of their grimy little hands while Mrs. Rogers went on about what a pain they are and how embarrassed she was about how they were acting, then helping herself to the keystone light that was in our fridge.

I tried telling her that it was time for me to bathe so I could go to work, I tried telling her that I was in the middle of very important work things. I folded clothes. I started a new load of laundry. She followed me.

I retreated to my bed with my laptop and my phone and made an attempt at looking very busy and very important.

She followed me.

FINALLY, Mr. Rogers came and retrieved her.

I got ready for work, and Jill, who is the root cause of this entire problem came in from work.

It seems Mrs. Rogers saw her pull in.

Again, the knocking at the door. This time, we were smart enough not to answer the door. We both hid in our rooms and Jill pretended to shower.

I went in my room to change clothes ….

I heard the front door open and an ultra friendly voice say….

” Did you say come in, or who’s there?”


The next thing I know….

She was standing at MY BEDROOM DOOR, watching me change clothes.

And giggling.

I’m not kidding.

I left for work.

Jill reports that Mrs. Rogers returned several times, and called multiple times.

Jill was at least covert about it this time… She spent the evening in her bathroom, sitting on her tub, smoking cigarettes and whispering through phone calls in order to avoid detection.

We have to do something.

And soon.

Is there a pesky neighbor removal service?

And is anyone willing to come put up privacy blinds on our balcony?


We’ll pay you.


2 Responses to “Won’t You (NOT) Be My Neighbor….”

  1. Tesa April 2, 2011 at 4:32 pm #


  2. Rachael April 6, 2011 at 12:18 pm #

    Oh good lord, how did I just see this?

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