a doorstep full of newspapers
I'm not the sort of person to knock on people's doors and introduce myself as their new neighbor. I AM the sort of person who smiles at my neighbors and says hi when I see them outside.
I know a few people at my current apartment complex. My next door neighbor, an older man working as a security guard, helped me up the stairs when I sprained my foot and commiserates with me about the slippery nature of our apartment complex. In the apartment closest to the laundry room lives a young guy who rides a motorcycle and always seems to be either outside smoking or talking on his cell phone. He usually says hi to me. Then, there is the little old Japanese woman whose deceased husband planted the beautiful and plentiful vine that creeps along most of the apartment complex.
When manwhoreforhire moved into his apartment, we noticed his next door neighbor had several papers on her doorstep and we figured she must be on vacation or away. When we ran into her as we were both returning home a few days later, we jokingly asked about the newspapers out in front of her apartment.
Little things like that (i.e. newspapers on front porches for days, xmas lights in january) don't bother either of us though the association rules where he lives seem to indicate other people feel differently. Mostly, I was sorely tempted to help myself to her Sunday paper as I have a weakness for sunday papers but lack the motivation to either subscribe (would I read it EVERY weekend) or go out and buy it on Sunday. I figure a Sunday paper left out until Monday morning becomes fair game, but maybe I am just a horrible person stealing other people's hard earned papers.
Anyway, it turns out this spritely looking 50-60ish year old woman was waging her own war against the Sacramento Bee. She only wanted the Sunday delivered but they insisted on delivering everyday. So she refuses to pick up the extra papers to prove a point. Having waged my own personal and illogical wars, I can hardly fault her. Instead, manwhoreforhire and I would sometimes take the extra paper so we could use it to start fire in the fireplace. And I admit, sometimes I would take the leftover and underused Sunday paper when it had been sitting out awhile. Only a few times. She actually took that one in most of the time. I'd also like to note the papers really only built up to about five or so at a time before someone would clean them up.
A week or so ago, I noticed the papers had really built up. There were about a week or two's worth of papers in a giant pile on her doorstep, including a Sunday paper left out that I guiltily stole for my own use. Guiltily because her doorstep has been clear of anything for days. Guiltily because I noticed as I walked by on Monday a white sticker affixed to her door and door frame. Guiltily because I at first read the sticker as a notice to not enter the premises by order of the sheriff. Later that night I noticed it wasn't the sherriff. It was the county coroner.
I think the woman died.
For the last couple of days, I've been mulling some things around. First, I wonder how long she was dead before anyone found her. Did the newspapers tip anyone off that something wasn't right? The copious amounts of newspapers certainly didn't ring any warning bells in my head. Or does the Sacramento Bee just really want to deliver to the woman even after her death? Second, it's weird how someone so geographically close to you can die and not really impact you at all unless you're nosy at signs. Most likely, she was dead on the other side of the wall and we didn't even notice or think about it. I was so wrapped up in my own work/life angst it didn't even occur to me.
Then of course, there are the irrational worries. Is her spirit going to haunt me for taking her last Sunday paper? Did she die tragically and has become a spiteful spirit? I scare pretty easily I am just saying.
I feel sad and a bit guilty. I guess guilty for not caring more, for not being more concerned.
I know a few people at my current apartment complex. My next door neighbor, an older man working as a security guard, helped me up the stairs when I sprained my foot and commiserates with me about the slippery nature of our apartment complex. In the apartment closest to the laundry room lives a young guy who rides a motorcycle and always seems to be either outside smoking or talking on his cell phone. He usually says hi to me. Then, there is the little old Japanese woman whose deceased husband planted the beautiful and plentiful vine that creeps along most of the apartment complex.
When manwhoreforhire moved into his apartment, we noticed his next door neighbor had several papers on her doorstep and we figured she must be on vacation or away. When we ran into her as we were both returning home a few days later, we jokingly asked about the newspapers out in front of her apartment.
Little things like that (i.e. newspapers on front porches for days, xmas lights in january) don't bother either of us though the association rules where he lives seem to indicate other people feel differently. Mostly, I was sorely tempted to help myself to her Sunday paper as I have a weakness for sunday papers but lack the motivation to either subscribe (would I read it EVERY weekend) or go out and buy it on Sunday. I figure a Sunday paper left out until Monday morning becomes fair game, but maybe I am just a horrible person stealing other people's hard earned papers.
Anyway, it turns out this spritely looking 50-60ish year old woman was waging her own war against the Sacramento Bee. She only wanted the Sunday delivered but they insisted on delivering everyday. So she refuses to pick up the extra papers to prove a point. Having waged my own personal and illogical wars, I can hardly fault her. Instead, manwhoreforhire and I would sometimes take the extra paper so we could use it to start fire in the fireplace. And I admit, sometimes I would take the leftover and underused Sunday paper when it had been sitting out awhile. Only a few times. She actually took that one in most of the time. I'd also like to note the papers really only built up to about five or so at a time before someone would clean them up.
A week or so ago, I noticed the papers had really built up. There were about a week or two's worth of papers in a giant pile on her doorstep, including a Sunday paper left out that I guiltily stole for my own use. Guiltily because her doorstep has been clear of anything for days. Guiltily because I noticed as I walked by on Monday a white sticker affixed to her door and door frame. Guiltily because I at first read the sticker as a notice to not enter the premises by order of the sheriff. Later that night I noticed it wasn't the sherriff. It was the county coroner.
I think the woman died.
For the last couple of days, I've been mulling some things around. First, I wonder how long she was dead before anyone found her. Did the newspapers tip anyone off that something wasn't right? The copious amounts of newspapers certainly didn't ring any warning bells in my head. Or does the Sacramento Bee just really want to deliver to the woman even after her death? Second, it's weird how someone so geographically close to you can die and not really impact you at all unless you're nosy at signs. Most likely, she was dead on the other side of the wall and we didn't even notice or think about it. I was so wrapped up in my own work/life angst it didn't even occur to me.
Then of course, there are the irrational worries. Is her spirit going to haunt me for taking her last Sunday paper? Did she die tragically and has become a spiteful spirit? I scare pretty easily I am just saying.
I feel sad and a bit guilty. I guess guilty for not caring more, for not being more concerned.