Practice Practice Practice

I have this next door neighbor who is lovely during the day albeit a little odd. She takes her Russian tortoise for walks. She moved in a few months ago and two days after she arrived gave us large family size inflatable pool. What do you say to a gift like that from a stranger who is now your neighbor? “Thank you” of course. A week later she complained that our central air unit was too loud and it was keeping her up at night. The following day she came over with the turtle and confessed to having a tumor in her head. Now she didn’t say brain tumor. But again what does one say to that? “Sorry” of course. Our two houses are connected at the roof, and a six feet long stretch of brick wall. A week later a work crew arrives and begins to move our A/C unit from the roof down to my yard. This she neglected to talk to us about. The funny thing is that the equipment was placed under her living room window, which looks on to my yard. What does one say to that? “Ha!” of course.

But the really annoying thing about this woman is that she hammers ALL THE TIME. I mean in the morning, in the evening in the middle of the night. We have called patrol. They have given her warnings. One night when my mother was visiting from Miami she was sleeping downstairs on the pull-out and the neighbor started her hammering at 1am. The next thing I hear is, our front door open and my mother talking to herself in Spanish stomping next door. I don’t stop her I watch from the upstairs window. Finally I think my mother will take care of this. But there are no heads rolling, nothing explodes and it looks quite civil from where I stand. They talk for about five minutes and that’s it. However she didn’t hammer for a few days.

The months have passed and she still hammers. We call patrol and they tell her to stop and then she does. But two nights ago I took matters into my own hands. She began hammering at 1:45am and I had just had it. I put on my red crocs and stormed over there in my green robe and monkey pajamas and banged on her door with the fury of 100 sleepless nights. She called out “Lu? Is that you?” in a timid voice from behind the door. “Stop the hammering! What hell are you doing in there that you have to hammer all the freakin’ time?! Are you a giant woodpecker?” 



At this she opened the door. She was dressed like Princess Leia, honest. White robe, gold rope thing, hair twirls and all. I was not prepared or dressed to meet galactic royalty. I was speechless. She apologized graciously and said she was working on a project. I just nodded and walked home. Mad at myself that I hadn’t had the last word. Months of wanting to stick that hammer somewhere dark and painful, and when I finally get the chance I am disarmed by her kookiness! Argh!

I went back to bed mad at myself. Have I turned over a new leaf and now lost my edge? Argh again!

When I woke up yesterday I had a song in my head so I burned it on to a disk and put it through her mail slot.

Last word? Not exactly. But there was no hammering last night.