My next door neighbor is a Christian. She’s the sort that makes me want to rename “what I am” (see today’s earlier post). She attends one of the large carnival-of-Jesus type evangelical churches in town (the slightly less charismatic one), and her social existance is almost entirely defined by her church group, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Her house is neat as a pin, decorated with quilts, fake flower arrangements, and at least a small collection of figurines. She drives a silver Honda Civic of indeterminate age, and no piece of dirt would ever dare to adhere to its finish, nor trash remain in its interior. She’s industrious, continually starting (and *gasp* finishing) one project after another to her condo. She’s somewhere in her forties, divorced, no kids…and always dressed very neatly, if perhaps with no style whatsoever (meee-owwww - shutup allison!).

I have no problem with all of the above. Seriously, I don’t.

What I DO have a problem with is this…vibe…I get from her that somehow, anyone who lives their lives in any different way than the way she chooses is to be pittied — they’re somehow lesser.

Lest you think I’m imagining things, there have been a few incidents.

Several months ago (while I was pregnant, no less), she went out of her way to explain to me how she and (upstairs neighbor) had both painted the doors to their storage space off the carports, and wouldn’t it be nice if I painted mine as well? “I have the paint already — you can just use what I’ve bought.” Um…okay…whatever. As it turns out, I asked my condo’s maintenance, and it’s NOT MY JOB to do ANYTHING to this door. They replaced my door (it had a crack) and painted it FOR ME.

When I first told neighborlady that I was pregnant (no, I wasn’t just getting fat, although I did that too), she asked pointedly, “Oh is (exboyfriend I’m still friends with) the father?” No, he wasn’t. She then proceeded to push for details, details that are none of her business. While I’ve made my peace with how my daughter came into this world since, at the time, this was a pretty fresh wound. Besides that, did I mention that perhaps it’s NONE OF HER FUCKING BUSINESS?

A garden runs along the southern wall of my condo. It’s actually “attached” to my condo in terms of responsibility, as the previous owner created it. Last year, for obvious reasons (I was pregnant and hot all the time), I let it go…and weeds and grass crept in. Who am I kidding? They stormed the castle, unpacked their trunks, and made themselves at home! I started working on this garden this spring, just to run into (other neighbors) one day standing outside my front door, analyzing my garden and deciding what they’d like to do with it. Um…well, since it wasn’t (yet) established that this wasn’t an HOA-owned spot — even though I was fairly certain it was my space — I said that sure, I’d love the help, and I’d even feed a workparty. Weeks passed (with my plans on hold) while I tried to arrange for “the day” to dig out the mess and replant. Neighborlady then turns up at my front door and says that (maintenance supervisor) told her that the HOA wouldn’t contribute and that she and (other neighbor) were no longer going to plan to work on this garden. I’d wasted a month waiting for these people. Still, that wasn’t an issue.

Within the week, neighborlady walks by my window toward the garden with (one of her many man-friends from church), and they’re standing outside my window pointing to the garden and talking. I headed outside and asked what they were doing.

NL: Oh, we were just talking about what could be done here.
Me: Why?
NL: Just talking about it?
Me: Well, you’ve said you’re not interested in working on this, so what’s the point?

I forget what else was said…but it comes back to me that NL went on to tell other neighbors that I was “rude” to her. I explained to them the context of what I said, and my other neighbors kind of responded, “ohhhhhh…” I also gave a little background and said that in several other instances, NL had intruded into my life, and that she didn’t seem to have much of a concept of appropriate boundaries. (Other neighbor) replied, “yeah, NL seems to have boundary issues.” I don’t think I’m crazy, you see.

In the time since then, I’ve tried to be nice to NL. I’ve helped her move around a dining table she was (industriously) stripping and restaining. I’ve had the ocassional small-talk conversation with her. But still, we’re nowhere near anything that could be labeled “friends.”

Why this rant?

She has (yet another male friend) over, and is showing him around and pointing out another garden that the HOA replaced (at her request, and she maintains it). While they’re standing outside, I hear MY NAME. She’s talking about my garden. The one that I dug out ENTIRELY BY MYSELF. The one I spent a couple hundred dollars replanting. The one that already has weeds creeping back in that I haven’t pulled out yet.

This shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t. So why does it? Why do I feel such utter annoyance at NL? Why do I want to go grab her by the shoulders and scream, “I’M SO THRILLED THAT YOUR LIFE IS EVER-SO-NEAT AND COMPLETELY DEVOID OF STYLE AND COLOR. I’M SO HAPPY THAT EVERYTHING IN YOUR LIFE STAYS IN PLACE. BUT GUESS WHAT??? IT’S YOUR LIFE, AND I WOULDN’T TRADE YOU FOR THE WORLD! NOW GET YOUR NOSE OUT OF MY BUSINESS, DON’T TALK ABOUT ME ***EVER AGAIN***, AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!!”

That wouldn’t be very Christ-like, would it?

And I’m supposed to love this person. SIGH. I think I have a long way to go.