Shoebox Neighbordrama, Continued Again.
I had dinner with Friend H last night, and upon returning to the Shoebox, there was (again) a vehicle in my spot. (I should mention that a week ago, a vehicle that I thought looked like EvictedBadNeighbor's van was in my spot.) Quite full of rage at not having a place for FriendH to park, I had a very difficult time refraining from storming up to ScaryNeighbor's door, breaking it down, and ripping out throats. But ScaryNeighbor would kill me as soon as look at me, if I did anything stupid like appear angry at him. I recall the copious amount of blood found in my parking space and his....
That's when I saw EvictedBadNeighbor. Confirmation. The scraps of trash and lingering scent of dirty, pot-smoking human last week had been him; my eyes hadn't lied. Furious, I risked my safety by stamping into the laundry room to get Landlord's phone number (LandlordLadyPerson is still in Peru). Someone had torn the number off the wall. I reminded myself not to make eye contact with the ruffians in the parking area. ScaryNeighbor stuck his head out his window. Considering the risks, I swallowed my anger and called up as sweetly as I could, "Hey mate, is one of your friends parked in my spot?" "Yeah," he said, "I'll send 'em down." I tried to muster some cheer as I said "Thanks, dude," but I think it came out more as a growl than anything.
Two more ruffians skulked to the car in my spot as EvictedBadNeighbor was leaving. This pair looked rather hazardous. I wasn't relieved and didn't feel safe until I was locked into my apartment - I had caught EvictedBadNeighbor's scent on the stairs and it was more than unnerving, even though I had seen him leave.
I am really torn. ScaryNeighbor, as dangerous as he is, doesn't shit where he eats. We tolerate each other in a live-and-let-live unspoken truce. I don't want to rock that boat, but I also don't want hoodlums trashing my parking spot. Or bleeding in it. Jeezus fuck.
I don't look forward to it, but I fear I am forced to look for a safer place to live. But there's no way I can afford deposit and such. I'll stick it out at the Shoebok until the Jeep is paid off, then see what I can find.
O Ye Gods how I miss my little upstairs apartment in downtown Bonner's Ferry, Idaho....
That's when I saw EvictedBadNeighbor. Confirmation. The scraps of trash and lingering scent of dirty, pot-smoking human last week had been him; my eyes hadn't lied. Furious, I risked my safety by stamping into the laundry room to get Landlord's phone number (LandlordLadyPerson is still in Peru). Someone had torn the number off the wall. I reminded myself not to make eye contact with the ruffians in the parking area. ScaryNeighbor stuck his head out his window. Considering the risks, I swallowed my anger and called up as sweetly as I could, "Hey mate, is one of your friends parked in my spot?" "Yeah," he said, "I'll send 'em down." I tried to muster some cheer as I said "Thanks, dude," but I think it came out more as a growl than anything.
Two more ruffians skulked to the car in my spot as EvictedBadNeighbor was leaving. This pair looked rather hazardous. I wasn't relieved and didn't feel safe until I was locked into my apartment - I had caught EvictedBadNeighbor's scent on the stairs and it was more than unnerving, even though I had seen him leave.
I am really torn. ScaryNeighbor, as dangerous as he is, doesn't shit where he eats. We tolerate each other in a live-and-let-live unspoken truce. I don't want to rock that boat, but I also don't want hoodlums trashing my parking spot. Or bleeding in it. Jeezus fuck.
I don't look forward to it, but I fear I am forced to look for a safer place to live. But there's no way I can afford deposit and such. I'll stick it out at the Shoebok until the Jeep is paid off, then see what I can find.
O Ye Gods how I miss my little upstairs apartment in downtown Bonner's Ferry, Idaho....