Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

Last night when younger daughter and I returned from seeing Up (highly recommended and if you’re like both of us, bring tissues), going to a friend’s house, and then to the supermarket we received a “welcome to the neighborhood” pie (apple crumb crust and delicious) and even a toy for Poops (who is now with exman for his week). This gift was from the neighbor whose door is right opposite mine on the second floor of our little four-apartment part of the building and who I see very rarely because it seems that he is out and about a lot, as am I.

On Friday afternoon we received brownies from a red box baked by the downstairs neighbor. How do I know they were from a box? Because she showed the box to me. These brownies came after about three weeks of telling me that she will give us a welcome gift and then asking if we keep kosher or have any food allergies, and then if we like walnuts in our brownies or not. Word of our not liking walnuts in our brownies is getting around the neighborhood since I heard her telling another neighbor this morning that “Laura doesn’t like walnuts in her brownies.” While this might be critical to someone, the very notion that our food preferences are circulating around is a bit off-putting.

This food talk follows on my realization that the downstairs neighbor is a “bit” nosy or overly-friendly from day one when she drew a little map of our four apartments and the four right next door and who lives where and how old they are and even, yes, that one couple doesn’t want to hang with everyone. Oh, shocking to learn. News of Poops was carried from that little tete-a-tete. Now maybe this is a small town thing, but I grew up in New York City in an apartment building where you had a lot of neighbors who were all in pretty close proximity so you knew that there had to be boundaries as to what to ask and say until you decided to invite the person into your life. This neighbor certainly grew up in different surroundings.

I am trying to see it as friendly that whenever I come home or leave, or when I open my terrace door I seem to hear “Hey Laura.” I shall remain friendly but I need to establish my boundary or personal space that is visible to her. I didn’t move here to feel uncomfortable in my home again. But she’s a tough neighbor to crack. Her yard and porch is right under my terrace. From day one when I went onto my deck to sit and talk to a friend on the phone she decided to call up to me to tell me something uber-important about storage space and would not stop even when I told her I was on the phone. To when my parents and I were taking pictures on the terrace two days later and she called up that she’ll take them for us. To the other day when she invited me down to hang out with her and another neighbor the moment she heard me open my screen door.

I guess the thing that pushes the boundary is that she is trying to keep track of younger daughter and her friends. Seriously, a forty-something woman (with no kids) should not try to become friends with my daughter and her friends. I understand the “she’s lonely” but she shouldn’t try to force her way into my life to fill her own. 

Friendly, yes, and I am not wishing it away, I am just going to make sure that my kind of keep-it-at-a-distance friendliness is respected.

How are your neighbors?