[For previous blogs please visit “blog archive” to the lower left of this screen. Click on the small black arrows for a drop down list of all the blogs.]
Not long ago I had a weekend routine that I loved. It was during the period when I worked in an office from Monday through Friday, longing for Saturday and Sunday.
Back then, each Saturday morning I would usually wake up about the same time I did during the workweek but ignored the fact it was 5:00 a.m. or 5:30 a.m. and would perform a long stretch, pull the covers up around my neck, and deliciously stay in bed. There was smiling. I often got up about 30 minutes later but the point was: I didn’t have to. It was Saturday morning. Snuggling under the covers with my dog and cats was a major treat after a long week.
After the stretching and resting concluded I would move to the kitchen and prepare animal breakfasts and my coffee. Once they were fed, and it had to be done immediately if I was to retain my peaceful morning, I would pour a glorious cup of coffee and stare out the kitchen window. This particular kitchen, where I still live, faces the street and the southeast. The sun, the lawns, trees, flowers, all of it, was a pleasure to take in. If the weather was dry I would find my gardening gloves, clippers, and clippings basket, slip on my super thick sweats and a hat, and I’d tiptoe to the front yard and quietly pull weeds. I was careful not to make noise because I knew other neighbors were still sleeping. I was blissfully at peace and happy.
Being outside by myself, before the neighborhood kids came out to play, before the lawn mowing started, before the cars started moving for weekend errands, was ethereal. Just the birds and me. I had been performing this weekend ritual for a long time. One morning as I knelt on my kneepad destroying weeds surrounding a rose bush I was scared out of my wits and screamed at the top of my lungs. A neighbor, a fairly new neighbor, crept up behind me and said, “Hi.”
I jumped to my feet and she started apologizing profusely. I sort of laughed (sort of) and explained that I was deep in concentration and had not heard her approach. At this point she started chatting. I was stunned. I was polite and chatted a moment or two and each time I thought we had concluded our conversation I would turn to my task and kneel and she would start again. After a time I realized she was not going to stop so I gathered up my tools and basket and kneepad and said something about having to get back inside and we parted.
The next weekend I performed the same morning ritual and as I pulled weeds surrounding an agapanthus I heard, “Good morning.” It was she. I didn’t scream this time but I was startled so once again she apologized. She didn’t just apologize. She went on and on and on. I told her that I would appreciate it if she would cough or make some kind of sound when approaching me at 6 am in a stone quiet neighborhood because I wasn’t accustomed to visiting at that time of day. I was moderately polite but she left quickly after a few more words of apology.
Over the next few weeks she continued coming to see me. I saw a pattern. I tried coming outside earlier, later, then not at all to break the routine. So I skipped a few weekends but on the weekend I finally came back outside, she appeared. So I stood up and told her that this was my special quiet time and that I really enjoyed being outside all alone after spending a week with so many people. Also, I explained, it was important to me to not make any noise for neighbors who were still sleeping. I was very nice and she understood. So I thought.
After that she appeared whenever I went outside to the front of my house. If I got the mail, she got hers. When I pulled my car in or out, she came out to see me. Once I was pulling out of my driveway when I thought to check to see if I brought my shopping list with me. As I sat in my driveway digging through my purse with the car running, she knocked on my driver’s side window. I let out a blood-curdling scream. I rolled down the window and gave her a nasty piece of my mind. There was swearing.
Another time I was sorting boxes in my garage and throwing some things away so I had the garage door open. I was on the floor in the back of the garage and as I stood up to turn toward the trashcans with my arms full of debris, there she was. Again, I screamed, and dropped a huge collection of junk on the garage floor. This happened a few more times when working in the garage with the door open. Now, I keep the door closed unless I absolutely must raise it for some reason during a project.
I live alone with pets. Not even my pets creep up on me. When my kids were home I was used to them coming and going and they were always noisy enough that I wasn’t surprised by their presence, ever. I explained that to her but I saw the fog of “I don’t get it” in her expression.
Over time I tried to do my morning weed pulling on Sundays instead of Saturdays but it didn’t work. She eventually was better at announcing her presence but it was still an interruption in what I loved to do. I gave up and hired a gardener. To this day he comes to do my front yard area and now I only do the back yard. He does a great job but he doesn’t do the roses the way I like them nor a few other little things I always enjoyed doing. Eventually she came into my back yard while I was pulling weeds because I had [stupidly] left the gate open to make trips to the yard waste can. I’ve since padlocked my fence.
There are many people in the world that we encounter in life. I have tried to get to know the people I meet and see regularly and for the most part have been very happy with the people around me. In this situation it’s not so much the neighbor but rather it’s just that I want my alone time. My quiet time. I worked in an office for years and got all the people time I need for a lifetime. I also raised two kids and everyone who has done that knows there is nothing quiet about kids. Now I like to live quietly, meet friends for coffee, lunch or dinner, visit with folks at my craft fairs and exhibits, visit with the family, and socialize, but for the large block of time that I’m awake each day and in my little house I prefer to live in quiet and peace.
And with the one exception of that particular neighbor, the one who doesn’t understand boundaries or social signals or space, my other neighbors live as I do and we all enjoy each other’s infrequent company. I know they would be there for me if I had trouble and I would be there for them. But we aren’t buddies and we respect our mutual privacy.
I don’t believe this particular neighbor is “lonely” because she often has boyfriends for periods of time and she has family she sees regularly. I suspect she just wants a friendship with a neighbor, a woman living alone like herself. She may also be a neighbor who enjoys close relationships with her neighborhood families. I’m not one of those. One neighbor I had long ago was particularly special and we shared many moments. There are exceptions to all rules. We clicked and even though he no longer lives here he stops by from time to time to say hi and show me baby pictures of his growing family. He’s about my son’s age and is just a delight. He became a friend. That’s a transition from cordial neighbor to a member of my friendship group. Yet, even though we became friends we still respected neighborhood quiet times.
I have actually been a good neighbor to this woman and have helped her with minor difficulties and I’ve given her a ride or two when she’s needed one. But over the course of our “relationship” she has repeatedly knocked on my door, sometimes when I’m in bed, especially when I was still working and got up early, and asks incredulous questions. Once she told me at almost 9 p.m. at night that a delivery would be coming in the next few days and might interfere with our connected driveways. I thanked her and made a mental note of it but she continued to tell me about the delivery several more times over the next few days. She reminded me again when I was sitting in my car with the motor running. Another scream. Sometimes as I sit here in my home office I can see her peripherally as she scoots about outside heading to neighborhood houses. She makes rounds. If I know she’s out and about I stay inside, shades drawn.
A new neighbor moved in and after they were settled she appeared at their open garage, which was loaded with boxes, as the family ran around discussing things they were doing, things they had to do, things they needed to do, etc. I’m sure she was welcoming them to the neighborhood but her visit was too long and I could tell they were eager to continue their work but they didn’t want to be rude. But from that point on she continued to go to their garage if it was open and ask questions. I’ve noticed they rarely open their garage anymore and when she knocks on their front door they no longer answer it.
Years ago I had a neighbor with a similar need to visit me on a constant basis. Once while gardening I saw her out of the corner of my eye heading down the walk on the side of my house. I figured she was looking for me so I just let her find out I wasn’t in my back yard. I finished my work and gathered my things and put them away in the garage. I removed my gardening shoes and entered the house through my garage door. There sitting at my kitchen table was the The Neighbor. I didn’t realize at first it was she so of course I screamed. (I guess I’m a screamer.) She apologized and said that she knew I didn’t like to be disturbed while gardening so she decided to just wait for me in the kitchen. She was drinking coffee and eating toast. I could barely speak but when I did it wasn’t neighborly. I learned from that experience so that when I work outside I always carry my house key with me and lock my door as I head outside. This outrageous infiltration hasn’t happened at this house, but the potential is there.
If not for the crappy housing market . . .
[No part of this content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.]
