I live in a complex.
Twelve units. All lovely people. Except the old hag next to me and the neurotic nag and her aged twins diagonally opposite to me.
We’ve had various run-ins. All to do with their bigotry and narrow-mindedness. We’re the last in a long line of people old hag has had run-ins with. Most of the complex now steers clear of her after many altercations. She has nothing better to do than look for trouble and stick her nose where it does not belong.
With our last encounter, I threatened her with the police and a protection order. Yes that’s how bad it got. She left me alone for about a month. Now she has a problem with my cat. She wants me to neuter him asap as he cries in her “garden all night long”. Not sure how this happens as I spend most of my night with the cat on my chest or on my legs or between Elt and I. So on Saturday morning I get a note under my door telling me to do something about my cat.
Now anyone who knows me really well will tell you that I do not respond well to that sort of thing. Don’t presume to have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do, unless I report to you in a work situation or our relationship gives you the right to.
It’s like when I get onto a train and there’s some douche with his feet on a seat opposite him or his bag next to him. There can be a million seats open around him, I will insist on sitting where his feet are or next to him if his bag is there. Call it a chip on the shoulder or me being tjatjarag. But after years of being told I can’t go here and not allowed to sit here and can only swim at Strandfontein or Monwabisi, everyone of the hairs on my neck goes rigid when I’m confronted with this sort of behaviour. And my reaction is severe. Some may call it uncalled for. I don’t care.
So the note that went under my neighbour’s door read as follows:
No.9 (She addressed me as No. 8)
It is not our intention to neuter our cat as it is not part of our culture to sterilise animals. We prefer them to run wild and breed as nature intended. And on that note, we will be slaughtering a sheep on 26 October. My son turns 6 and we will be having a traditional ceremony for him. We have obtained permission from the Council Inspectorate and will be giving the trustees a copy of the letter and I’m sure they will inform you in due course.
I then sat back and watched her totally lose her rag. She went to most of the neighbours and told them about our plans and tried to rally as much support as possible. Two of the neighbours knew the truth and the rest just laughed it off. They could see what I was doing. This weekend I will leave another note under her door asking her if I can erect a 5 metre high plastic screen to shield her garden from any possible blood and also to make sure she doesn’t have to see any of it!!
That should get her spinning.
I really am a nice person. But don’t rub me up the wrong way. Your sanity or depending on how badly you rubbed me up (your life) will not survive it.
I will do things in my time. My way.