I've had good neighbors and some who have been great neighbors.
There have been neighbors who know pretty much everything there is to know about me. There have also been neighbors that have shared what they are about with me. They have left me in peace when that's what is needed. They have also been by when company is exactly what is called for at that time.
There have been times that drugs, weed, booze and food was shared among ourselves. Sometimes we just sat and shared stories and and drank Kool-Aid or soda. Then there have been other neighbors that have been private people who kept to themselves. They always had a smile and would wave "Hi!" if you saw them on the street.
That's OK with me too...
As time passes people move on to better surroundings. That's the way it's supposed to work. Good things happen or opportunities present themselves. Only a fool would pass up a chance to get out of this hole. To be completely honest, if it weren't for certain amenities in this place that serve my life style, I would be gone as well.
Some may have gone back to jail. While I can't say that this guy was exactly a friend of any sort, he respected my space and I respected his. To say he's back in jail may be wrong, but considering his history, my money is on that fact being close to the truth. Unless he's dead, but I would have heard about his kicking the bucket.
Some do just die, but that has been talked about that quite a few posts back.
Now it seems as though Karma is evening things up a bit in regards to having good neighbors. A new neighbor has been a pain in the ass since the day they moved into this building. From the racket that was made from their moving into the place to their guests ringing the wrong bell or knocking on my door.
There is a small vestibule at the front of my apartment. In the past, when others have lived in the adjoining apartment, sometimes my bell will be rung by mistake. A few times actually, my bell been has been rung on purpose when there is no response from the other apartment.
This has been by people I knew and they either wanted information as to the whereabouts of my neighbor. I if usually didn't know or played dumb. I figured that if my neighbor wanted company, they would answer the door themselves. Other times folks have dropped of packages for a neighbor, knowing that it would get to who it was intended for without any problems.
So when my new neighbor's friends ring my bell and I answer they are usually chased away. They insist at times on coming in to knock on the other door. I push the door into their face after informing them they have rung the wrong bell. I get dirty looks, but really don't give a shit. The way I look at it, if my neighbors want to let their friends or drug dealers in, that's there choice, not mine.
What really has been bothering me lately though is this person mistaking a bit of kindness for weakness.
When first moving in they didn't have a phone, so I allowed them a few calls to relatives or whoever to find missing appliances or to request they drop off a piece of furniture. My mistake in the last instance of using my phone was when, after offering them a few minutes of privacy to make a call. After about fifteen minutes, I knocked on their open door to retrieve my phone. That when I walked into them laying back on their couch while madly dialing away to get another call in.
Fuck that shit.
Then there is the cigarette thing. Once they knocked and asked if they could have a smoke. I passed on five or six. That should be sufficient until they could get to a store and buy their own. After all, it was late at night and an open store is a walk through a bad neighborhood to get a pack.
I was kind of surprised when the following morning there was another knock on the door for smokes. Figuring they were just getting up, I passed two more butts through the door. About six hours later they were knocking on the door again. This time I gave them one smoke.
Things quieted down for a day or so until the knocking came again at my door. This time I was told they were getting their check and as soon as it came, they were going to the bank to cash it and buy me a pack of smokes.
I'm still waiting for those smokes.
So now when the door is being knocked on, I usually ignore the pounding. Sometimes I do answer and am out of whatever is being requested. Sometimes and more frequently now I just reply that I am busy or have company. Whether busy or not, company or not, I am too busy to come to the door.
So it now it usually goes like this:
Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!
"I SAID I'M FUCKINGGGGG BUSY!!!!!!!!!"
Jack London and his Alcoholic Memoirs - *Meet John Barleycorn.* In the early years of the 20th Century, writer Jack London was the equivalent of a rock star. A ruggedly good-looking sportswriter...
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