Vertical Trailer Park or Can I Use Your Pool?

Life at the «vertical trailer park» has been remarkable of late, to say the least.To hear her tell it, today was Brenda’s «only day off».It was practically 95 degrees outside, and it was my intent to do a little yard work, clean up my patio furniture, water my flowers and spend some quiet solitude in the yard, enjoying a healthy lunch and some relaxing music.Albeit pointless to say perhaps, and in the ever so popular and infamous words of Snidely Whiplash, curses (my plans) were foiled again.Grant it, I have moved to the second floor, amongst other reasons, to discourage Brenda’s obnoxious and inappropriate screaming in my windows, and it has proved to render her repugnant shrieks and screeches even more piercing and annoying, second only to those of the Howler Monkey, which is dubbed the loudest land animal in existence.I suppose, and can attest to, the fact that Brenda is definitely a close second.I spent the better part of the morning checking and answering emails, calling utility providers, making appointments, and generally taking care of business.Being that it was nearly 95 degrees outside, I had my air conditioner on of course, with my front window slightly ajar (which is something I do frequently so that I always have fresh air).I was listening to music as well.She must have had invisible binoculars, as each time I pa*sed by the window I could hear her muffled screams, none of which I understood, and none of which I was remotely interested in.But, she bombarded me with what I a*sume to be her basic litany of ridiculous questions and comments, most of which I ignored, except for the several times I told her I could not hear nor understand and she would be better served to cease and desist.This served to encourage her rants; additionally she was on my last nerve.В Fed Ex driver approached with an enormous box for me, she was out of her chair so quickly, as if she were struck by lightning, as if I were some sort of philanthropic organization offering free money.She couldn’t wait to get to my door and get a glimpse of the box and what was in it.What is that she queried?Do you need help carrying it in?No, I replied, I will just slide it in, I’m cool, thanks.It took me a moment to try and re frame my thoughts, which were something to the effect of none of your f**king business, now go away, with my naturally aggressive approach, however I was successful in thinking before speaking and simply said, I don’t know and closed the door, but not before she commented on how great my placed smelled and what did I use?She howled through the door, are you coming outside?Again, thought reframe from not if you are f**king out there, too I’m not certain.I was getting a lift to the store, but before I left, I had Gladys in the yard for a minute.She continued to insist that I leave Gladys there with her, I declined.She reminded me it was too hot in the car for the dog.I thought, bitch really, I’m out here as well, and I can feel how hot it is.I explained that I would be running into the store and my friend would stay in the car with the dog and the air on.Unpleasant response thought number five million, how have I made it so many years without you telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, but instead I replied, thanks for the advice.I wanted so very much to punch her in the throat, but the thought of spending any time at Cook County jail facilitated my containing myself, aside from the fact that I merely could not and would not reduce myself to her level.When I returned, and much to my chagrin, I find Bill, a resident of another building and somewhat of a bizarre character himself; after all he grows fruits and vegetables in the bed of his pickup truck, sitting at my patio table, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.He was sitting in my chair, and a kind of rage besieged me, much like that of Archie Bunker when the Meathead sat in his chair.Brenda not only invited him, but encouraged him to sit at my table, explaining that he can’t enjoy the yard in his own building.My thought, I don’t give a rats a*s, but I remained cordial and asked if he could move over to Brenda’s «side» of the yard, so I could enjoy my lunch, my music and my time alone, he indulged me.Brenda continued yapping about why she hadn’t set her kiddy pool in a spot where it would be sunny all day, (since the sun was moving) and asking me if I wanted some of Bill’s homegrown scallions (I took them, and subsequently used them in the fabulous potatoes I grilled later in the day).Still thinking why doesn’t she just shut the f**k up?With all my might and what I imagine to be some sort of divine intervention, I smiled, nodded, and essentially ignored her.Cut to me repeating Frank Costanza’s mantra, SERENITY NOW, SERENITY NOW, as if it were my own.Then it happened.I decided to get Gladys Knight’s pool, which is an actual dog pool, about three feet in diameter and four inches deep, to soak my feet in and cool off a bit.When she noticed me filling it, from «her side of the yard», she opted to dump her pool and move it adjacent to mine at the speed of Dan Wheldon (the new school Mario Andretti).I use this analogy since as one would probably deduce, she is the world’s biggest racing fan, go figure.I digress.My phone rang and it was a friend who is out of town due to a death in her family, a friend that I was just recently reunited with, and it was her son’s birthday.While filling my pool, I was wishing this plaintiff kid a happy birthday and asking him general questions about his recent doings and well being.Meanwhile, she is fluttering around me like a butterfly on crack, yapping about the speed at which I’m filling my pool, so loudly that I couldn’t hear the kid I was speaking to, which happens all too often when she is around.In the past I have feigned talking on the phone to avoid her screaming at me, to no avail, she just keeps going and going and going to the point all she need don are some big pink ears and a snare drum.В I snapped, no more thought re frame, I threw the hose in her pool, told her to shut the f**k up talking to me, shouting several other unpleasantries and walking away to continue my conversation.I ended the conversation with my apologies and promise to return the call later in the day, and walked back to the yard.В  At this point I was still quite perturbed and continued un-relentlessly with my reprimand.She threw the hose back in my pool, and said, it doesn’t matter if you fill it up, because when you get in, all the water is going to go out anyway, fat a*s lesbian.I realize I am a slightly overweight lesbian, as she had called me another unacceptable name days before.One of the conventions I attempt to employ is not hurt, insult or attack a person on his or her character, looks or lifestyle blatantly or vengefully.Don’t get me wrong, I have been known to make fun of someone for humors sake, and that’s just wrong, but funny nonetheless.В I grabbed the hose, held my fingers over it to create a spray and pointed it at her, like she was my prey.She ran off, like ten year old, screaming obscenities, towards the refuge of her husband (and Bill who was hastily leaving) who reminded her that she started this and even though she said her insults were jokes, he informed her it didn’t sound that way.He was immediately instructed that was to no longer speak to me.Cut back to me chasing her with the hose as Bill was hurriedly leaving the area.I untied her bathing suit top and accidentally ripped off her bottoms.She contended it was because her body is so hot and I wanted her, knowing full well it was done only to keep myself from actually kicking her a*s.What I said next cannot be repeated here, but suffice it to say it was something to the effect that I wouldn’t want to be with her if she were the last person on this earth.I was so infuriated at this point, I don’t really remember what I said or did next, except that I told her I didn’t rip her suit on purpose, it was an accident.She didn’t believe it.She began packing up her things, a bucket, a sheet, some dog things, her wine coolers, her chair and everything else but the pool, muttering that today was her only day off and I ruined it.She stormed upstairs only to return moments later catching her husband talking to me and calling him a small decked a*sh*le bitch for doing so.I chuckled to myself and resumed my conversation with him.She stomped off again and did not return.Several minutes later, I made the decision to call her and extend an apology, to be the bigger person since fate would have it; we have to live in this community together.She didn’t answer, so I left a voice message asking if it would be alright if I were to make use of her pool.I like to believe that I lived in a peaceful six unit community, where the residents practice being cohesive and living together in peace and harmony.As time evolves, I realize this brick and mortar building is nothing more than a vertical trailer park, with the common denominator of drama, trouble and general unrest being Brenda.I am so very grateful for the handful of the leaving other neighbors who make living with Brenda bearable.So it goes
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