Good Stuff

Several really good things happened to me on Wednesday.  I want to focus on those – that is what this is about.  We can find good in lots of things if we just look for it and honestly, I didn’t have to look hard for them.

I’ll go in reverse order, mostly because I want to get it all down and the last thing is the shortest thing.  I’ll get long winded later on. 

Third of all, I bought my house about 18 months ago and was lucky enough to get one that didn’t need much fixing-upping.  The woman who lived there before me had decorating tastes similar to mine and with the exception of the putrid red shiny wall, I didn’t have to change a thing.  The house came complete with a pretty little tree in the front yard.  A crab apple tree. Which really, why a crab apple tree?  What purpose does the crab apple serve anyway?  I suppose a quick Google search might teach me something but right now I’m too lazy for that.  But the tree is pretty in the spring and for that I’m grateful.

Monday I noticed a lot of tiny red buds on the tree. And on Wednesday all of those buds had fully blossomed.  It was gorgeous!  Very pink and some green – very flowery. 

 

While it is a beautiful tree, it has its flaws that thrill my neighbor as much as they thrill me.  All of those blossoms on that tree mean that the crab apples are coming.  It also means that those thousands of crab apples will rot and fall off and produce a shit ton of tiny little crab apple sprouts in his yard and in mine which have to be mowed down regularly so as not to have a forest of crab apple trees overtaking our postage stamp yards.  I suppose I could pick the apples out of our yards before that happens but again, I seem to be too lazy for that.  Actually, only as I was writing this did it occur to me that I should do that. Maybe I should take lessons on being a good neighbor.

Upon reflection, though, I would call us pretty laid back neighbors.  Our introduction went like this, a day after I moved in: 

<ding dong> (this is my doorbell for those of you wondering)

Jimmie:            Hi!

Neighbor:        Hey, I’m Luke.  I’m your neighbor.  We have moles.

Jimmie:            I . . . okay . . . . well, should we, ah, do something about that?

Neighbor:        No, I took care of it.  I just wanted to tell you.

Jimmie:            Want me to go halfsies on that?

Neighbor:        No, I got it.  Okay, nice to meetcha. See ya around.

And then a year and a half later, he finally came over when I invited him for dinner to hang out with me and my friends.  That didn’t take long. 

Secondly, I drove home in a monsoon.  The sky was a bit cloudy when I pulled out of the parking garage and before I had driven a mile the bottom dropped out.  The raindrops were so hard and heavy that it sounded like I was being pounded with giant rocks inside my car.  That is called “hail”.  I only realized how loud it was when I decided to call Phranke to chat on my way home.  I spent most of that conversation yelling about my day and not hearing a word she said in return.  I’m sure she had a good day, though.

It was difficult to see for much of my drive home but when I got off my exit, the skies cleared enough for me to see a huge rainbow!  I love the hopefulness of the rainbow.  I love how each color fades into the other and how perfect those colors look together.  I always heave the biggest sigh of pleasure when I see one.  Had I had a camera and a view not obstructed by power lines and not been driving (because I would never do something to distract myself from my driving, like yell on a cell phone to Phranke), I would have snapped a picture and posted it here.  But I can draw one for you, so you know what it looked like. See? 

And firstly, I got into a scuffle with Louis, our security guard at my building at work.  Louis is an adorable older gentleman who wears a coat and tie every day as part of his uniform.  I call him a tiny thing which infuriates him. His neck is the approximate width of a toothpick and the collar of his shirt is most likely the smallest size he can get and still wear adult clothing.  When he ties his tie, it pleats up the collar of his shirt like a plastic grocery bag and the flaps of the collar overlap.  He looks handsome in his uniform and I have a sneaky feeling he uses it as a medium to drive his lady-friend wild.  He sits on the first floor of our building and speaks to those he likes while ignoring those he doesn’t as we all come in and out for the day.  He is perfectly pleasant at all times, though.  I can tell when he is in a mood because those days he just grunts and waves.  I know better than to be chatty with him those days.

A couple of weeks ago he asked another co-worker for a ride to the bank.  It is only a couple of blocks away but he struggles with the hills and the traffic.  Downtown Nashville is no place to play.  She didn’t have her vehicle that day and couldn’t drive him but asked if I could.  Of course!  So when we went down to get him, he offered to pay me for the ride. 

“The bank is three blocks away.  No way.  I’ll just drive you,” I say. 

And he says, “Jimmie, no now.  I’m going to give you some money.” And he is stern and I can tell he will be offended if I don’t take the money.  So we depart for the bank, drop him off, circle the block and pick him up again.  He gives us each a sucker and gives me $6.00.  For a three-block drive.  We had Words. I told him it was too much but he insisted.

Wednesday he asked if he could get another ride.  “Of course,” I said.  And off we go.  And when I circle around and pick him up, he hands me a $10.00 bill.  Ridiculous.  I try to say no and he is affronted.  We argue.  He tells me that I cannot tell him what to do and that he is older than me and that I need to respect him.  This argument has worked for me when I want to get my way, usually with my younger sisters.  So I take the money because while I am happy to drive him, he is happy to give me the money.  And I honestly believe it is important for him to pay me.

The joke is on him, though, because on Monday I am buying ice cream for the three of us and paying for it with his tenner.  This just makes me want to hug his skinny little neck but I’m not sure which of us would be the most embarrassed about that.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Anne Shaver
    Mar 29, 2011 @ 10:16:20

    Good for you, Amanda! You’re developing a great comic voice, a good sense of timing, and delicious observations of the people around you. Keep it up–practice will hone your skills (as exercise will your body). I assume the broken-heart rant was the first thing you wrote, even though it’s posted second. It was no doubt great therapy to write it, but it’s the least skillful. When you cool off enough, do see if you can craft it into a league with the other posts. I admit I’ve often been too lazy to rewrite (laziness is in our gene pool), and I’m sorry for it. XXOO

    Reply

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