The side of the house I’m working at offers those of a daring nature a treacherously steep passage composed of lovely compacted dirt, shale and clay. Add wetness to the passage and it becomes a slippery slope just waiting for someone to attempt it and go ass over tea kettle.
An initial set of steps have been poured by yours truly to assist in making things a little safer but there’s more work to be done. But before work can be completed, an irrigation catch basin needs to be relocated – it’s currently right smack dab in the middle of the path of the proposed steps.
So, on this day, the digging began. And the drama came shortly thereafter.
I wasn’t 10 minutes into it when I heard the huffing and scuffling at the neighbor’s house next door. A window was thrown open, I caught a head in the midst of disappearing and then an exaggerated exhale of breath. It sounds as if a phone is being dialed.
I can’t quite catch the conversation going on until I hear the loud-enough-to-be-heard-for-my-benefit question/exclamation:
“Don’t you need a contractor’s license to, you know, contract?!?”
I chuckle to myself. All I’m doing is digging a hole. Last time I checked (oh, that’s right: I’ve never checked) one doesn’t need any sort of official license or certificate of excellence in order to put a hole in the dirt. My immediate thought on hearing the neighbor was “No, you don’t, not in this case. Just like you don’t need any kind of certification to stick your nose into other people’s business, I don’t care how good you are at it.”
You have to understand the neighbor next door to the house I occasionally do work at is known as “a crazy lady.” Now … I’m not certain she’s actually certifiable, but I’ve heard tell of past scuffles with others, neighbors and the like having regaled me with those tales. She likes to yell at kids, I’m told, who are doing nothing but laughing to themselves as they walk down the street past her house. I’ve witnessed first hand her laser stare while I’ve been laboring at some chore or another, glowering at me for simply, well, being there. How laboring with my back turned away from her house, minding my own business, is a source of irritation to her is beyond my comprehension.
This particular morning I’m 35′ away, doing my own thing, digging. I’m not bothering anybody. It’s not crack-of-dawn early in the morning (it’s 8:30-ish) so it’s not as if I’m waking someone at an inconvenient hour. I’m not creating any excessive noise or whistling some annoying tune while working. It’s just a simple fact of the crazy lady being one of those people who likes to stick their nose in other people’s business and raise a ruckus for her own purposes. I’m sure you know the type – virtually every neighborhood has one. Sometimes, they’re even a source of entertainment.
But … you’ve got to give her credit: She’s good at what she does. And throughout my time working away on the side yard in the coming weeks, I expect the drama to escalate to a fever pitch.
I’ll keep you posted. And with pictures if possible …
*Above photo not an actual likeness of the real crazy neighbor lady