"That" neighbor

Being new to the apartment dwelling community, I was ignorant to the ways and wiles of apartment dwelling folk. I have been blessed to have always had a house to live in, except for a townhouse we live in when first moved to Seattle, a brief stay with friends in Burlingame,another brief stay in my studio in Sacramento and 6 months living with my friend in his condo after my release from jail. All other places I have called "Home" were houses and one trailer aka "mobile home".

Having said that, when living in an apartment community, along with that comes 'neighbors'. Now, when I lived in a house, the neighbors were the ones outside, doing lawn work, washing cars, doing odd chores or just hanging out. In an apartment, there is no need for yard work and there is no place to wash our cars other than at a car wash...you see, we are not allowed to use a hose to wash cars because it uses too much of our "free" water.....yeah, I know.
Anyways, the only time we see our neighbors are if we both happen to be coming or going at the same time.....that is with the exception of your Siamese twin neighbor...the one you share walls, floors or a ceiling with. That brings me to my topic. I have "That" neighbor. The one made fun of in sit coms. The one you hear about from other people that thank GOD you don't have to deal with.
Well...up until 7 years ago, I never had experienced such a neighbor....emphasis on "up until". I now share a floor/ceiling with Joan.

Joan is somewhere between 78-88. She is thin and has eye burning silver/white hair. No blue on this dame...no siree. This is as pure a white as it gets. She has it done religiously every month. When I say "Done" I mean the full meal deal. She gets the perm as well as the style. It's amazing how fast her hair straightens out. When she comes back from her monthly salon visit, she looks like someone has dropped a poodle on top of her head. The curl is so tight,it makes My face hurt looking at it. She stands a bit taller after her salon visit. She has a certain spring in her step and a glint in her eye. Oh yes...this one was a real looker in her day. I can tell, for her to be this age and be in such great shape...I can only imagine how gorgeous she once was. However, age, time, experience and every bitter moment she experienced from birth is etched on that face...a permanent grimace and pained look.....it is as if she is always smelling shit.

When I first moved here, she was as kind as could be. She reminded me a bit of my mother. I don't know why I felt that way, they had absolutely nothing in common other than being old, white and female. However, I wanted to feel that connection so I created it. We used to stand outside our stoops and smoke, drink coffee and talk. Her favorite topic to talk about was other people...especially the ones that we shared space with. Joan had been here since the beginning of time so she knew everyone who had lived here, what their names were, how long they had been here, what they did for a living, how many children they had, what condition their family was in, who was in jail, who had a degree, what they ate for dinner on Tuesday nights, who had a disease, whose car didn't' work and do on. If you wanted to know anything about anyone living at the Georgian Apartments...you just had to ask good ol reliable Joan and she would gladly spill her guts out to ya. She was always telling me what a breath of fresh air I was after the nightmare duo that lived there before me. I saw the condition of the carpet when I moved in, so I could only imagine who or 'what' had lived there before me. There were two girls who were party animals and nothing changed until they moved. Joan didn't make a big deal, I think she was afraid of them. Why couldn't she be afraid of me? Please God, make me intimidating to her, please...I am begging you...OK, I have derailed my train of thought.

Only one problem with her being so forthcoming with negative info about the neighbors here was this....if she was so ready, willing and able to discuss other people with me.....what was she telling other people about Moi? Being the open book, heart on my sleeve kind a gal that I am, within the first few weeks I had told her every fucking thing about my life. I told her why I was there, what crime I committed, what drugs I took, what husbands I had lost and how...I basically verbally vomited all over her and she sucked it up like a human Hoover....what I didn't know was what she did with all this 411. She was stocking it up in her ammo closet, where it would be fresh and able to blast someone out of the water with it. (when I say water, I mean apartment)

Joan was the 'go to girl' for new managers,whether they asked her for it or not. (in 7 years there have been 7 'new' managers. Do the math) That has kept Joan busy. Just as soon as she has them completely trained and all 'knowed up' on the 'important stuff', they get burned out, pissed off and leave. She knows the current owner Chris and the owner's father Joe, who left the Georgian to Chris when he passed away. If I had a dollar for every time I heard her say, "If Joe could see what Chris (live son) has done to this place, he would roll over in his grave" I would have.....well....ten or eleven dollars.

OK, fast forward a couple years. Joan and I were good...no problems. However, "we" were having problems with people parking in our curved driveway. They are not supposed to do that in case an emergency vehicle needed to get through, or the mail truck, or guests needing a place to park. It was a "Drive" way, not a "park" way. We were given designated parking when we rented our place. One bedroom, one parking space. Two bedrooms, one parking space... Permits for the street were free and the place you could get them were 2 blocks away so it really shouldnt have been a big problem

OK, so, this one new dude starts parking his eye sore Jeep in our driveway and Miss Joan was PISSED OFF. See, this made it so she had to back up onto our street and old ladies dont' like having to drive backwards. That takes moving their heads and necks muscles, also it requires using a rear view mirror...all of which is foreign stuff to the "over the hill gang". I taped a polite note on his rig, asking him to please park somewhere else, that this was our drive way and not a parking space. I shared this info with Joan and she was all for it. I had done the same thing on a few other cars. Mind you, I have no say in what people should do here. I just thought a polite note would get the message across and there would be no problem. That's what i get for thinking.

The next day, I have a note on my door giving me 3 days to vacate if I don't comply with _______I read what the __________ part was and it said in hand writing, 'Tenant is to stop leaving notes on other tenants cars stating that she is the management, telling them to move their cars". I WAS FUCKING STUNNED....No one knew I had left those notes but Joan. No one in this building knew my name, what my handwriting looked like or that I had been the one doing this. What happened was, the tenant with the Jeep called complaining to the manager and he lied saying the note was signed 'The Management". The new managers knew Joan was the 'go to gal' for stuff like this so they "Went to" and asked who had done this. Joan tells them it was me. She acted like she had nothing to do with it and laid it all on me. Once I had my little "There is something you need to know about Joan" lecture, we were all good again.

I learned my lesson....and the rule for this is..."Keep your friends close and your enemies closer". I began to kill her with kindness. I left her flowers, wrote her cards, talked with her endlessly. She stopped going outside to smoke...Hee hee...it was working. I had wedged my way under her skin so deep she was going to need Nair to remove me. Seriously I was trying to offer her the olive branch of peace and she basicaly told me where to put it, by not talking to me at all. I could read her glaring looks when we passed each other outside.

Mothers Day 2005. Joan has children and grand children by the dozens. One 'child'...and I use that term "child" loosely, comes over and proceeds to run and jump around so hard that my pictures fall off of the wall. Our walls, ceilings and floors are very VERY thin. I can her her tinkle in the morning. Every other day she vacuums and it is as if she is using a freaking Track Hoe because of the horrendous banging and bumping she goes through. I can mentally picture her lifting up her couch and letting it fall to the floor,just to annoy me. Oh, and it does....but I don't let her know it does. I can hear her cough and clear her throat...I know she can hear me walking because she tells me about it. My cat is heavy and every time he jumps down,the place shakes. It just is what it is and we can't help it. All we can, or should do it try to remember that and not lash out at our neighbors.....well....I've had had enough of this. These apartments are not that big. Where the child found that much room to do what ever it was he was doing, is beyond me....I pounded on the floor and yelled, "KNOCK IT OFF!!!". Little did I know that I had just fired the first shot in the "Battle of the Neighbors". Joan saw that as drawing 'First Blood' and in her mind.....IT WAS ON!

Eight (8) months later, I was stirring my ice tea when I felt/heard a pounding underneath the very spot where I stood. It took my brain a second to register what it was. Joan was ramming a broom stick up underneath me telling me I was stirring my iced tea too loudly. ... Can you freaking believe this horseshit?

I began trying to get her to lighten up and "forgive me" (For what I didn't know but I am going to assume it was for being alive" I gave flowers with cards saying things like 'Joan, please believe me that I didn't attack your grandson and I really am sorry for what ever it is that I have done to anger or upset you. Please can't we just be friends (I am an excellent kiss ass). The flowers would be taken inside but no response was offered...ever.

And so, we existed like that for the last 4 years. No conversation. NO neighborly waves or 'hellos' or 'have a nice day's "kiss my ass" nothing, zip, nada, zilch NOTHING Just an occasional glare at me every time she looks my way..if looks could kill I would be a bad smell in the basement of this building.

I am exhausted from doing battle with this bitch. I am weary of her watching my every flipping move. I am tired of walking on egg shells, trying NOT to disturb Cruella. I walk on tip toes, I am so polite, I didn't flush my toilet in the middle of the night, that's how considerate I am. She says, 'You are up there just making noise, hammering things and stomping around "like you do" (that became a catch phrase for my friends and I. We use it all the time and crack ourselves up...."like you do!".

Is she kidding? I can hear her fart and I am not exagerating. We live in paper thin walls..she needs to get the fuck over herself. In the real world...I am the dream upstairs neighbor. I have no stereo, no boyfriend, no large group of friends who come over and party every weekend. I don't have kids, I dont even have a phone that rings loudly. I use my cell phone. I turn down my volume..I take my shoes off before walking on my kitchen floor because it has no carpet and makes a louder sound. Who does that kind of shit? I dont know anyone. This silver haired, thin skinned,tight ass, Camel smoking, purse clutching, cadillac driving, flower pot planting, stray cat feeding, grandson spoiling bitch had best get off my last nerve because I am about to get upset. A few months ago on Easter when her grandspawn was over here, I heard her say to him, 'Now you just jump around and make as much noise as you can. Have fun dear"....I KNEW IT!!!! she is doing it on purpose. God i wished I had a tape recording of her saying that.

Well, my spleen feels adequately vented for now. I have given you the details and would love to know if anyone else has this neighbor. Everyone I talk to says the same thing,"Every apartment has one"... Really bad thoughts have been creeping into my mind lately....thoughts that probably shouldn't be put in my blog in case one day Miss Witchy Poo comes up missing and the F.B.I. starts sniffing around. Thoughts that include Ninja Face masks and black clothing so you can sneak around at night, time. I know....I would never ever do anything to harm another human being, besides I am not in very good shape and it takes someone in excellent shape to be a Ninja, right? I won't go there....But I can stil dream, can't I?

I know that Irent out way too much space in my head to unwanted/un-needed tenants. I need to let her go with love and embrace my life and stop worrying about her. Just because she is obsessed with ruining my life, doesn't mean I have to reduce myself to her level and allow her to. Oh but that every so often thought...just one little push with my foot as she is walking down the stairs with her arms full of garbage..."Ooops, excuse me, I tripped" Tumble, tumble, plop, plop "Oh Help me Jesus I'm Fallin, Oh Lord Help me, Oh Jesus, Im' falling!!!" and then....Silence....that is until the ambulances got there.....then there would be tons of questions and witnesses and then I would be pointed out as the one 'having problems" with her and then the next thing I would know, I would be in handcuffs riding in the back of the police car going for some more questioning...my life as I know it would be flashing before my eyes and then it would be over and she would have won.
Nope, I aint gonna do it. Thanks for talking me out of doing something really stupid. I owe ya.