Almostgotit.com

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Lemme tell you how kind and forgivin I’m fixin to be to all them gol dern folk who keep on makin them trash mouth, false accusations. 

And yessir, Dante, you kin bet I’m talkin to you too.

Here in Knoxville’s fancy little neighborhood called Chigger Woode, we share together a little ole vacant lot — er, a “private park,” that is.  Once a year er so, ezzactly ten percent of them what owns the park (addin up to 6 whole, intire bodies!) come on down hair to weed, trim, and mulch the whole dern place ourselfs. 

This year Clem brung along one of them fancy weed wotchamacallits to hepp us all out.  Afore we quite knew it, though, we done cut down a few too many of them weeds, and found ourselves lookin right at a neighbor feller’s terrible shy gee-rodge.

We been doin our best to patch thangs up with that poor, shy ole gee-rodge ever since. 

Thought we’d final done it, too, til a couple days ago, that ole gee-rodge’s owner feller got hisself so worked up he done sent out one of them emails to ever single other gal and feller in the whole intire neighborhood of Chigger Woode, answerin I guess to the friendly little newsletter thang what I myself had sent out just a wee bit previous.  

Them thangs he puts in quotations were took right out of my own mouth after I sent it, too.  

… with regard to what happened at the park “clean up”, I would not say that “all is well on that front.”  In all actuality, nothing has changed since that debacle.

I reckon what that poor ole gee-rodge really wants is money.  Buncha other gals done already offered several free of them real nice nandina bushes, a lot better than those ratty old weeds we took out even, but it look like only a full home ree-model plus a big ole trust fund is gonna make that gee-rodge happy.

. . . In addition to the destruction of our privacy, we … are now blinded by the light at the dance studio on Nexttochigger road every time we sit in our yard at night.

Sad thang is, though, I don’t have enough money for no full home ree-model, not for me nor any other feller in Chigger Woode, neither.

But I up and buyed us all thisun instead, hopin it might help smooth things over:

How bout that, sad ole mister gee-rodge?  Aren’t I demonstratin a great big helpin of right proper good sported-ness?

. . . Simple kindness and “good sportedness” will not reimburse my wife and I for the [many thousands of dollars] that we are having to spend … 

Land sakes, mister gee-rodge, but you is one tough cookie.  I guess I could find a few more pennies if I look under Pa’s whiskey jar, then least I could buy you thisun too:

Hugs and kisses,

Almostgotit

It was a good weekend chez Almostgotit.

The neighbors have all received my newsletter, and there have been no death threats. A few probably have concluded I’m dangerous and should be left alone (hurray) while a few others have called me on the phone to say “bravo.”

One even brought me some flowers.

Almostgotit made great strides in sorting out some things in the attic, getting rid of several piles, and finally opening the stupid box for her stupid new computer and even putting the stupid thing all together (NB friend Betsy!!)

The rest of the family, feeling a little less ambitious, nonetheless also seemed to have a pleasantly relaxing couple of days.

The New College Student, too busy lately even to trim his own toenails apparently,  came home and spent virtually all of his time like this. 

The 12-yr-old  , whose official weekend chore is to clean the bathroom, found interesting things to do with the bathroom mirror instead .

Cat #1 helped make the beds in her own way.

The dog (a purebred Rhodesian FridgeSnack, FYI) carried his blanket around all weekend, finding many comfortable places to sleep as well.

And I did tell all y’all, did I not, that the adults have a lovely new mattress for weekend sleeping, as well? 

Life, in other words, is pretty good. 

In one of my stupider moments, I agreed to be a block representative for our homeowner’s association. No one else would do it, and mostly all I’ve had to do is go to very boring meetings.

But a few days ago, a neighbor began circulating a petition for our block of homeowners to secede from the rest of the neighborhood. Turns out this man is not in fact a homeowner, has never been to a neighborhood meeting, never shown at work parties, never contributed money, and never bothered to get any of his facts straight.

Most of us had never even met him before,either. I spoke to him at length, could get nothing out of the whiny little man that made any sense, and concluded he couldn’t do much harm.

I was wrong.

As the day progressed, I became increasingly amazed at how much havoc one person could cause. He brilliantly found the people who were most ready to take offense, most likely to listen to his irrational arguments and half-truths, most eager to hear and even help him spread rumors of who was insulting whom, and which group had conspired against which other.

I pondered an appropriate response, and finally sent around a letter. I didn’t mention the man or his petition, only re-introduced myself. Said I was available. Mentioned some great things about both our block AND our neighborhood. All better now, right?

Wrong again.

The man came to my door. “Everyone” had told him to talk to me. “Everyone” demanded $500 to fix a vague something he could provide no further details about. But he had “letters,” he said. He invited me to come up to his house to listen to the 17 angry messages on his answering machine (I declined.) The “11 people” who first asked him to be their spokesman? Too afraid to tell anyone their names because of what might happen to them if they do.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

After about the tenth round of “everyone is pissed off” I finally used his name very deliberately (own it YOURSELF, jerk-face, and no more of this “everyone” crap) and said X, *you* are pissing *me* off, and I think we’re done talking. He was taken aback, but quickly rallied and triumphantly declared that now he would add “The NEIGHBORHOOD says our block is pissing them off!!!!” to his list of grievances he would be reporting back to “everyone.”

And darned if he didn’t, the little cockroach, wreaking even more havoc.

The worst was the woman who called me in full attack mode. I was so dumb-founded by her unrelenting nastiness that I couldn’t even hang up on her. I had a relationship with this woman. She’s a little silly, sure, but she’s also all alone so I’ve taken the time to tour her silly little garden, coo over her silly little dog.

In the wake of all this drama, for the past several days I have worked almost non-stop at researching and compiling a handy and fact-filled “Neighborhood Q&A.” (AKA “Chill, yo.”)

I’ve rewritten nearly every word. I’ve shortened, sharpened, considered and reconsidered. I’ve read bits aloud to myself. I’ve moved large pieces back and forth, deleted them, rewritten them. It seems a little obsessive, but also seemed truly necessary. Writing it out has settled and refocused me. I feel more like the words are making me than I them. They have been my best friends. They’ve put me back together, held me up and re-energized me.

They are strong, true, simple, tough words now (also a tiny bit funny) and they are finally done. 13 pages, 40 copies. Attached to 40 copies of the neighborhood bylaws.

It goes in all their boxes tomorrow. And then? To hell with it. My neighbors are either going to knock it off or I am going to resign. We’re going to get THIS failure over with as fast as possible.