I live in an apartment complex. Rather than one huge tower or block, it’s a series of one- and two-floor buildings each with twelve to fourteen apartments depending on the size and configuration. Some of the rules make sense and some less so; one of the rules is that people aren’t allowed to use outdoor grills at all. Right next to the buildings where it could be a fire hazard is understandable, but there are open fields and yards between the buildings where it should be safe. Still, no grills.

Despite this, I have to say that one of my favorite things about living here is the SMELLS. There are a lot of people from a lot of cultural and ethnic heritages — in my building, at least — and smelling all the different types of cooking and inspiring me to try more has probably contributed to my weight gain in recent years.

It also inspired someone else to organize a potluck between the whole building and the one next to ours! One Saturday, we all got together, set out tables, and brought unique dishes. You didn’t have to bring food to participate, but the organizer did ask folks to bring their own drinks and some way to label their dishes so folks had half an idea what they were grabbing.

There were bowls and crockpots and serving platters; Indian, German, Mexican, Southeast Asian, South American, Middle Eastern, and African — I think the only inhabited continent/area we didn’t have represented was Australia; snacks and appetizers and soups and entrees and desserts. Everyone was trying mostly everything, folks were getting to know each other, and a good time was had by all.

Then, SHE arrived. This woman came huffing and puffing her way across the street from another building. There may as well have been thunderclouds billowing above her head.

I was unfortunate enough to be part of the group that was closest to her.

Woman: “What the f*** do you all think you’re doing?!”

Neighbor #1: “Having a party?”

Woman: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEAN AND YOU KNOW IT!”

Me: “Nnnno? I mean, if you wanna join us, we’ve got plenty, but—”

Woman: “SHUT UP! WHO’S DOING THE COOKING?!”

From this point forward, she never talks in less than a bellow.

Neighbor #2: “All of us, potluck!”

Woman: “WHERE’S THE GRILL?!”

Me: “No grill, lady. We cooked these in our houses.”

Woman: “BULLS***! YOU CAN’T COOK INSIDE AND THEN BRING IT OUTSIDE! YOU’RE ALL COOKING ILLEGALLY, AND YOU’RE ALL GETTING EVICTED!”

And just like that, this tornado of rage spun around and marched back home, leaving everyone baffled. Much laughter was shared over the novel concept of “moving food from where you cooked it”.

Then, ten or fifteen minutes later, a couple of police cars rolled up with their lights blazing. I conspicuously noticed a few neighbors disappear; whether they had actual issues or just didn’t want to get involved, who knows? But the organizer and I were front and center as the police got out.

Officer: “Good afternoon. We’re here because of complaints that you all had an open fire pit going on.”

It’s usually not a good idea to laugh in a police officer’s face, but I really couldn’t help it. After a brief discussion and showing of what was going on — we didn’t even have anything playing music, which was also part of the complaint — the officers headed off. Thankfully, nothing else happened that day, but occasionally, I’d spot an angry face peering from a window to which I’d give a cheeky wave.

And no, nobody got evicted, but a new rule was put into place: any planned outdoor gatherings of more than two apartments need to be communicated with the main office. Thanks, [Woman], for adding bureaucracy to a friendly get-together!

Related:
Every Party Has A Pooper; That’s Why We Invited You

We had two dogs, a mother and son duo who both were the most loving pets to us and to an elderly lady who lived three houses away from us. This would happen whenever we were returning home and our car turned the corner into our street.

Mum: “And there they are!”

We would see two small black dogs running out of the lady’s yard and down the street to our house. When we arrived home, they would be just nonchalantly lying at the front door, and then they’d act surprised to see us.

Mum: *To the dogs* “So, you’ve been here all the time, waiting for us, all innocent-like?”

When Mum first noticed this going on, she visited the neighbour just in case the dogs were annoying her. The neighbour told her that our female dog comes into the house and spends time with her and that she loves having her there for the company. She couldn’t even entice the male dog to come inside and he would just sit outside the front door. The moment our car turned into the street, he would let out one bark and the neighbour would let the female dog out the front door.

This all started when the lady asked my sister if she would bring her horse over to eat her grass in the backyard because her son lived too far away to mow it. My sister would take the dogs with her, and they noticed how lonely the lady was.

I’m usually a jeans-and-hoodie girl, rarely seen in anything else unless I’m going to some sort of event — a birthday party, a funeral, that sort of thing. Even my job is such that I don’t have to dress up for it. All of my family and friends know this and are usually surprised if they see me in anything else.

So, apparently, are my neighbours.

Earlier this year, I had a funeral to attend, so I dressed myself up in a black dress and nice shoes with a handbag and a nice jacket. As I was leaving the house, my very sweet elderly next-door neighbour emerged from her home.

Neighbour: “Morning, [My Name]. Oh, you look smart! Off somewhere nice?”

Me: “Not really. I’m off to a funeral.”

Neighbour: *Looking a bit embarrassed* “Oh, I’m so sorry! Well, hope it all goes okay.”

I thank her and head off, no feelings hurt.

Fast forward to yesterday. I have a job interview so, naturally, I’ve tidied myself up and have on a black skirt-suit, heels, etc. As I’m leaving, my neighbour is in her front garden doing some tidying. She looks up as she hears me leave the house.

Neighbour: “Morning, [My Name]! Oh! I’m so sorry for your loss!”

Cue a big facepalm from me! We had a good laugh when I explained where I was actually going, but really, perhaps this is a sign I should tidy myself up a bit?!

I recently trapped a pregnant cat and brought her inside. I posted about her online for weeks, asking if anyone was missing her or thought she might belong to someone they knew.

Nobody came forward, and she gave birth in my bathroom. I started posting pictures of the kittens online, saying I would have to figure out adoption fees based on how much the vets charged.

My neighbor reached out, asking about the kittens.

Neighbor: “I have a friend who will adopt all of the kittens once they’re fixed.”

Me: “Great! They should be ready to go by [date]. I’m thinking everything will cost about $200 per kitten. I’ll have a better idea once they go to the vet.”

Neighbor: “I’ll tell my friend she can get them around [date], then.”

Me: “Okay, sure.”

Now, the kittens are old enough to be adopted. I get them vaccinated, fixed, and microchipped through a program my vet suggested. I reach out to [Neighbor] again.

Me: “Hi, the kittens are ready. They’re $150 per kitten, so whenever your friend is ready, I can meet her.”

Neighbor: “What? I told her you weren’t charging anything.”

Me: “As I said when you reached out before, there is a fee to cover their vet bills.”

Though I don’t say it, the fee is also to weed out people who are not willing to seek appropriate care for an animal.

Neighbor: “I can’t believe you’re being so greedy.”

Me: “I’m not, actually.”

Neighbor: “She’s not going to pay that. She can get a free kitten anywhere on the Internet.”

Me: “Okay, go ahead. Just remember, that free kitten is going to end up costing more in the long run.”

Neighbor: “I just can’t believe you would charge money for a cat you basically stole.”

Me: *Laughing* “Okay, [Neighbor]. Good luck with this free kitten search.”

All four kittens were later adopted for $150 each, and some of the families threw in extra money when they saw that I was charging less than the vet fees. I have no idea if my neighbor’s friend ever found their completely free kitten.

One afternoon, like clockwork, I heard my junior-high-aged daughter coming up the drive to the front steps, and then to the front door. I decided to play a prank. I stood behind the door, listening for her approach. I knew about then she would be reaching for the door knob to open the door and come inside.

I opened the door before she could, and I stuck my head out and made a godawful noise like a growling and hissing cat, hoping to startle her and get a laugh.

But just as I opened the door and let out a pretty impressive “growl-hiss”, I saw the horrified face of my very startled neighbor.

He immediately jumped back.

Neighbor: “Oh, my gosh!”

He grabbed his chest, steadied himself, and then held out his hand with an envelope.

Neighbor: “Here. The mailman delivered this to my address by mistake today.”

Me: “Oh, my! Thank you so much.”’

Neighbor: “No problem. Have a nice day!”

He turned and left… with a little more scoot to his step than before.

From that day on, every time I drove or walked past his place or saw him out watering his lawn, we would always exchange friendly, neighborly waves, but inside, I would be reminded of that day that I startled him. I have often wondered what story he tells his friends and grandkids about the neighbor lady who jump-scared him for giving her mail to her. I am embarrassed but get a laugh every time I recall his face at that moment. Poor fellow.

I don’t do that anymore — jumping out and startling people — unless I am absolutely sure it is the person my prank is intended for. The funny thing is, my daughter got home from school about a minute after that, and I didn’t even tell her what I had planned for her that had backfired on the poor neighbor guy.