Irony defined
The house next door has been empty for months. The owners finally started coming around and fixing the place up, apparently readying it for new renters. These owners have never actually lived in the house; they're an older couple, and were allowing their daughter and her children to live there for years before finally kicking her out due to, well, due to her being a complete FAIL as a human.
So I don't know this old couple at all; I have maybe seen them a handful of times throughout the years, and even then it was usually through a window or in passing while driving. And I'd like to point out ahead of time that they never ONCE said hello to me or even glanced in my direction.
Yesterday I was outside working in the garage. When I say 'working in the garage' it does not involve any tools, so do not be alarmed. It involved cleaning up approximately 816 Matchbox cars, 13 empty juice boxes (and randomly scattered straw wrappers), 49 wooden train engines, 53 pieces of play kitchen food, 18 dried up patches of playdough, and 4 spiderwebs.
So there I was, (and Aiden was helping) sweeping out the remnants of 7-day old chocolate cupcakes (if you couldn't tell, the garage is basically the neighborhood kid hang-out), when the old couple next door pulled up. As I edged closer to the garage door opening, sweeping and scooping along the way, I happened to glance up at the porch next door, directly into the gaze of the old lady. Oh, I thought, ok, this is where the friendly greeting ensues, so I smiled and said "Hello!" She did the same and appeared to continue on into the house, so I resumed my clean-up duties.
However, she doubled back, leaned down over her railing at me and hissed, "WE'RE NOT MEAN PEOPLE, YOU KNOW. YOU CAN SAY HELLO TO USSSSSSSS."
And what I gathered from that was: they're not mean people, except at that EXACT MOMENT, when they were trying to convince me that they aren't mean, but quite frankly being kind of REALLY FUCKING MEAN about it.
Amiright or amiright?
So I don't know this old couple at all; I have maybe seen them a handful of times throughout the years, and even then it was usually through a window or in passing while driving. And I'd like to point out ahead of time that they never ONCE said hello to me or even glanced in my direction.
Yesterday I was outside working in the garage. When I say 'working in the garage' it does not involve any tools, so do not be alarmed. It involved cleaning up approximately 816 Matchbox cars, 13 empty juice boxes (and randomly scattered straw wrappers), 49 wooden train engines, 53 pieces of play kitchen food, 18 dried up patches of playdough, and 4 spiderwebs.
So there I was, (and Aiden was helping) sweeping out the remnants of 7-day old chocolate cupcakes (if you couldn't tell, the garage is basically the neighborhood kid hang-out), when the old couple next door pulled up. As I edged closer to the garage door opening, sweeping and scooping along the way, I happened to glance up at the porch next door, directly into the gaze of the old lady. Oh, I thought, ok, this is where the friendly greeting ensues, so I smiled and said "Hello!" She did the same and appeared to continue on into the house, so I resumed my clean-up duties.
However, she doubled back, leaned down over her railing at me and hissed, "WE'RE NOT MEAN PEOPLE, YOU KNOW. YOU CAN SAY HELLO TO USSSSSSSS."
And what I gathered from that was: they're not mean people, except at that EXACT MOMENT, when they were trying to convince me that they aren't mean, but quite frankly being kind of REALLY FUCKING MEAN about it.
Amiright or amiright?