I think we can all agree...there’s always that one neighbor who’s just a little off. If you’re lucky they’ll just ignore you and you can stare in bewilderment from a safe distance while they ramble on about whatever it is that’s got their panties in jumble today, to one of your other unfortunate neighbors. I am not so lucky. I am the unfortunate other neighbor.
At first she didn’t like us all that much because she thought we were throwing cigarette butts into the street. We were doing no such thing, and swiftly informed her of this. Then she thought we were spitting near the entrance to the hallway to her flat...again, ridiculous! After letting her know that, neither I nor J had being doing anything that could possibly offend her she finally started to like us. I think it was better when we annoyed her. Her husband got stuck in the elevator yesterday when the power cable to our building got cut. So who does she ask for help? Yep, us. Of course I’m going to try to help someone stuck in an elevator...God knows I’d be having a panic attack if it were me...I went down to the elevator to try help her...not that I would really have been able to do anything unless my little birdie arms suddenly gained super strength...but she wasn’t there, so I went back upstairs and didn’t think too much of it. Two hours later, power still off btw, someone knocks on the door. Up until now our interactions have only been J or I standing at our open window with her on the street. Now she’s figured out where we live...no good. Well, apparently our building has two elevators (thanks for letting us know landlords...) and her hubby was stuck in the one I didn’t know about. Ignorance really is bliss as she was prepared to lay into me when I opened that door but she couldn’t really say much about it if I didn’t know where it was. After listening to her yammer on for a couple of minutes I successfully managed to pawn her off on another neighbor who I convinced her might know something...don’t ask me what because I’m still not exactly clear on what it was she wanted me to do in the first place...then ran back inside and locked the door. Oh, one last little quirk about her...no matter how many times she sees us she forgets that we don’t speak Dutch! It never fails, she spots us...talks for five minutes in Dutch...looks at us like we’re the crazy ones when we don’t respond...we tell her again that we can’t understand her...she says something crazy in English....we try to figure out the fastest way possible to get her to stop talking to us...then she says something in Dutch again! It’s a vicious circle.
Do you have any stories about your crazy neighbors? I’d love to hear them!!
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