Neighborino 2

My son was putting out the recycling tonight. We have a milk crate inside, and a couple of times a week, because we are so diligent and it fills up fast, he takes the contents outside and dumps stuff in the actual county bin that we put out on the curb on Tuesdays. 

I could hear her voice. And Geoff saying "Huh?"

I was making dinner, and could hear her rattling at him, and he wasn't answering. So I wiped my hands and went out back. 

"Oh! Christine! I have not seen you in a while."

"Yes, I know. I've been busy, and haven't been hanging out outside."

"Oh! What are you busy with?"

"I work from home. I work all day. Sometimes late hours. So I'm here, I just have not been outside in the back here, mostly up front with the garden, or with the dog."

"Oh! What do you do?" 

"I do technical support." 

"Oh, I need technical support with some things!"

no.

She told me that she noticed Geoff was doing the recycling. She was explaining to Geoff that she was hoping we would save the pull tabs off of our beer cans. And he didn't understand what she meant by pull tabs.

I figured it out rather quickly.

"You have a lot of beer cans. And I collect those tabs for charity."

Oh we have a lot of beer cans, do we?

...Yeah, that's not a lie, I guess. 

But are you saying we drink a lot? 

...No you're not. You're just noticing we have cans and...cans have tabs so you're just asking.

"Sure thing, we can grab the pull tabs and save them for you. I'll do that, no problem." 

Then she starts going on about the firewood. Again. That she went at Doug the other day about. 

"It's been too hot to burn," I said, "and if it isn't too hot it's pouring rain. We'll get to it."

"Yes yes, your husband said that."

So what's your point, lady. What he told you is what stands. We. Will. Get. To. Burning. All. The. Damn. Wood. When. It. Is. Wood. Burning. Time. 

She then went on a mystical explanation journey. 

"I had my driveway redone a few years ago, and I had some concrete stacked up here, and the neighbor, he is fussy, he called the county on me! My brother, he was so sick with the cancer, he couldn't do anything. And the company was supposed to come get the concrete and they did not, for weeks! And this man calls the county... and......."

"So what." I replied. "You know what? That's your business, and no one else's. You could have a giant pile of concrete, and that's no one's business. That could be an art installation. It's not anything to worry about. It's yours. You deal with it when you can." 

She started laughing.

"I'm totally serious. If it is your concrete, it's your concrete. If you needed time, that's no one's business. He could talk to you, ask you, offer help if it is something you need help with. And if anyone comes at you, you tell them you'll take care of it when you can take care of it." 

I'm thinking to myself so help me God if you call the county because I have firewood for a fire pit I will lose my mind. 

We exchanged some more chit chat and I went inside to continue prepping dinner. 

I really wanted to go out and grill, but I had Doug do it instead because I didn't want to deal with her. And Doug understood so he handled it with no neighbor sightings. 

One thing I forgot to mention in the last entry was the recycling bin that we had. 

When we moved in here, every house in the county has recycling bins. There are these gianormous bins for cardboard and paper, and a small bin (should be the other way around, really) for cans and glass. 

We had the one at the last house in the kitchen, but at this house there isn't enough room so we keep it under the back steps, and Geoff uses that milk crate that we keep in the kitchen to do the transfer.

The county glass/plastic bin, the small one, was cracked. It looked like it had been hit by a car. We taped it up, it was fine. It worked. You put recycling in it. It doesn't have to be perfect. In fact, a busted up and duct taped bin is kind of the definition of recycling in a way.

There was nothing wrong with the bin. 

One day in the spring, I was outside with the dog and she came over calling to me. 

"I called the county about your broken recycling bin. They are coming to take it away."

I'm thinking, what is your deal lady?

"Well, there's nothing wrong with it."

"It is broken," she says.

"But it works. We put tape on it. It holds garbage, recycling, it isn't something that needs to be beautiful, I mean. What?" 

"You can take one of mine. Leave your broken one here by my driveway because I called the county. They are bringing a new one and they will pick it up here at my driveway."

"You have more than one recycling bin?" 

"Yes, I have a basement apartment. It is totally legal. So I have two bins. Take one, and the broken one will be picked up by the county this week." 

I'm thinking to myself, what is wrong with you, you old busybody. The people who lived here before us used this bin did you give them grief? Or did you wait for us to get here so you could fuss. Also, why didn't you just say something like "hey I noticed your bin is busted? Have you thought about calling the county?"

So I took the bin and walked away. Later I told Doug and he was like "what is her deal?" Both of us were dumbfounded. 

Every exchange I have makes me miss our folks up the block. 

Hopefully the weather will be nice and acceptable, this weekend, we burn things. 

EDITED: 
Geoff went to the beer store yesterday afternoon, after the discussion about pull tabs. 

He bought bottled beer. I don't know if he did that on purpose. If that was a deliberate shade throwing act on his part. But it sure made me laugh.