Do you have an occasional neighbor? I’m sure you do. I think everyone has one. What is an occasional neighbor? I define one as someone who lives close to your home but only recognizes your existence when they need something from you. Otherwise, as far as they are concerned, you could be dead.
My occasional neighbors live across the street from me. The family includes the parents, two obnoxious boys, and two rarely seen dogs. I might add that they are avid Trump supporters and religious fanatics.
My husband and I fly our Pride flag during Pride month and sometimes year-round. Other neighbors also fly their Pride flags, which are not as large as ours. Our occasional neighbors have not commented about our flag, at least not to our faces. The only time they have referred to our sexuality was when the wife approached me to tell me she heard we were celebrating our wedding anniversary, but she could not wish us well as her church did not condone our lifestyle. I thought my simple reply of “Fuck you” was appropriate.
Another interaction I experienced with the wife and husband occurred during a snowstorm when I was stuck in my driveway, unable to free my rear tires from a patch of ice. While struggling to dig out my car, I noticed the two of them brushing the snow off their car while occasionally looking my way. While unsuccessfully attempting to free my car from the ice and snow, a young coatless Amazon driver of Middle Eastern descent stopped his car, took my shovel, and dug me out. I thanked him and offered to pay him for his time. He refused, saying, “What are neighbors for”? How ironic!
As spring approached, my next-door neighbor, another man in his seventies, and I tried to free his riding lawnmower, which was stuck in the mud. Once again, our loving Christian neighbors sat on their asses across the street, watching us wallow in the mud. They did not attempt to offer any assistance to two old men who could have suffered a stroke.
The situations I described above are not my only interactions with my occasional neighbors. Without fail, at the start of every school year, the wife shows up at our door with her two boys in tow, acting as though she is one of our closest friends. Of course, she is helping her kids sell magazines, candy, or other such items and expects everyone to shell out their hard-earned money to help her little brats.
The next time she darkens everyone’s door is at Halloween. She makes sure her fat little kids get their share of the candy. And, of course, they never say “Thank you.”
Just before Halloween, one of my neighbors always has a big Halloween party for the kids and adults. Our occasional neighbors always show up, never bring anything, and never express their appreciation to the hosts. Even though they have attended every party and cookout given by the rest of the neighbors, they have never invited anyone to their home.
One summer, the wife asked if she and her boys could use our pool. Like a fool, I said yes. For such a religious family, I have never heard such foul language coming from the mouths of her teenage boys. She never attempted to correct them, so I guess her church condones that language. Luckily, they soon got their own pool, so I didn’t have to host them ever again.
Now that you have met my “occasional neighbor,” I am sure you can think of your neighborhood and find your “occasional neighbor.” I guess they make our lives a little more interesting, if not aggravating.
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