Shall Not Covet Your Neighbor

Sunday morning came too early this weekend. I'm still not sleeping and woke up at 7:00 AM after going to bed around 2:00 AM after hanging out with friends from the soccer team. I had already been drinking a beerzooka with another group of friends that afternoon. It was all good, though. I went AWOL at some point in the night and took a cab home and threw a cooler off of my patio into the bushes. I'm starting to draw some lines in the sand with the neighbors and expressly said to not put the cooler on my porch ever again.

In the morning I was trying to go back to sleep by holding the pillow over my head, but it wasn't working and didn't matter as there was a knock on my door. Pappy and Warner were at my place. We kicked it and I showed Warner a list I was making of every person that I've ever slept with. I told him that there is this period where I can't remember anyone's name and so they have names like "Mexican Bo Peep," "Ginger Bo Peep," "Leather Pants Vampire" and "Four Piercings Below The Belt (but may have been named Arlene)." Then Warner gave me a ride to my car. I got the car home and all was well in the world. Watched Liverpool lose while trying to fall back asleep on the couch. Wasn't going to happen.

Around 2:00 PM I decided to be Johnny Palmerseed and go spread the love for the wondrous elixir that is a Robert Palmer. The Robert Palmer is an Arnold Palmer + Vodka + Peach Schnapps. Apparently, people are really ordering them now. It's become a totally legitimate order since being invented at the Portland airport by myself in honor of the love addicted British rocker, Robert Palmer. Sadly, it's only recognized by the few bartenders that I drink with, but it should make the Applebee's menu in about 6 months. It's delicious.

I bargained my way into a sixth on Sunday and introduced a cougar to them. She was a huge fan and thanked me for inventing it. They never thank you the day after, though. So, yeah, after six, I was a little trashed and ready to head home.

I biked home with the plan to order a pizza, watch a movie, and go to bed. It was a pretty solid Sunday plan. The pizza gets there. Life is good and my phone blows up. I'm expecting it to be one of the two people that I've been texting all afternoon, but it's some weird number. The text says: "So...how did you feel about talking?" I texted back "What?!?"

The next text said, "what do you mean by that? I'm asking if you want to talk."

I texted back "I don't know who this is?"

I googled the area code and got up and walked next door. I knocked on the neighbor's door and said "Is this you?"

She said, "No" and I turned around and then she said, "Just kidding, but you deleted me out of your phone?"

We talked for a bit. I told her the silent treatment/ignoring thing was a bullshit move and uncalled for and that I deserved more than that. At the very least she needed to treat me like a fucking person as I had been super cool to her and this is not how you return favors.

She countered by saying she wasn't avoiding me and that she had just been busy helping her friend buy a car and some other bullshit. She actually looked like she might be able to convince herself that that was true. I told her that that was complete bullshit and I didn't care about any of the whys or hows anyway. It just had to stop. Honestly, she hopped the fence onto her patio once last week. It was a little transparent. How am I feeling like the crazy one when stuff like this is happening?

She knew a bunch of stuff I did this past week, too, and knew my routine pretty well. That was creepy. She said that she would occasionally look for me out of her peephole in her door. I mean it's one thing noticing if your neighbor's car is not in the parking lot, but checking the peephole before you leave your apartment? That's a prison.

So, the goal was to end the neighbor feud and I think we got there in about an hour. I then gave her half of my pizza and went home. Mission Accomplished.

Where does this leave things? No more bike rides. No dinners. No sleepovers. No middle of the night comfort calls. No more after work hangouts. No more Rock Band. No more feeling like a stalker in my own apartment. Now, however, we can at least just coexist. A life less complicated is my windmill to chase. I, honestly, don't believe I'm destined for a normal life, but it doesn't mean that I won't try.