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asshole in our midst It takes a certain, special kind of asshole to hear that a person has cancer, and to then basically tell that person to fuck off. I think I’ve found that certain, special someone, in the form of our current next door neighbor. When we first arrived at the beach house, here in Lincoln City, punkin and I were relieved to be away from the apartment we’d been sharing. The noisy neighbors had us going nuts, and it literally felt like we were escaping when we left. I recall how wonderful we felt our first night here - it was quite peaceful, and we were starting a new adventure. The very next day, problems began in the form of a next door neighbor who was apparently going to open up a wood shop in his home. He’d built an extension on his house that brought his outer wall less than five feet from our living room wall. With the dwellings that close, you can imagine what kind of noise we had to deal with, on a daily basis. Most of the construction going on was to the house itself, so the banging was lengthy and intense at times. We could not only hear it, we could feel it in the walls and floorboards. It seemed we’d replaced one bad situation with another. Now, let’s go back to that first day - not the first evening, but the very next day. I think I’d gone off to find the library, when I got a text message from my . She informed me of the construction that was going on next door, and promised to fill me in when I returned. As I rode back I hoped it was something that would turn out to be minor, or brief, but found out that wouldn’t be the case. My sweet girl informed me that she’d gone over to the neighbors house to see what was happening after being treated to a bout of banging, and been met with derision. When she lied and told him that she had cancer, and that we were at the beach to hopefully get some peace and quiet, the neighbor simply scoffed and wished her luck. I was pretty angry when I heard this, but didn’t know what to do. It’s not my beach house, I don’t have a history with the neighbor, we’re not moving in long-term, and I was almost certain anything confrontational would only make the situation worse. It was a difficult time. A bit about the cancer thing - thankfully, punkin does NOT have this disease. She told the neighbor she did to hopefully garner some sympathy towards our situation. Had she simply said we’d come to the beach for some relaxation, the guy probably would have been even more of an asshole, but as it was he seemed at least mildly understanding and sympathetic. Telling people that punkin has cancer is not something we would normally do, but the situation called for a bit of manipulation on our part. It was clear the moment she approached the man that he simply did not care. He wasn’t concerned about anything except getting his work done, and damn anyone that got in his way. This is not the kind of person you can be rational, or civil with. You can only hope to gain some modicum of sympathy, and that is what we did. I tell you all of this, because I want you to keep it in mind as I continue. As you read on, remember that the douchebag I am talking about thinks that punkin has cancer. Remember that he knows the noise he is making is disruptive, and that it directly affects us. Both punkin and I pled our case, separately, in the beginning. To his credit, the next door neighbor was a bit warmer to me the first time I spoke with him, and he promised to do his best to keep the noise down. We quickly found this to be an empty promise. Work sometimes started as early as 7am, and often lasted well into the night. I think 9pm was probably the latest we ever had to deal with the banging from next door, and that was likely one of those days where it began early in the morning and lasted pretty much the whole day. Sometimes the banging went on for several hours in a row, with almost no breaks in the chaos. As you can imagine, this made staying in the beach cabin unbearable - at times, nearly impossible. It meant that rain or shine, in the mood or not, tired or not, we had to leave to avoid going insane. Instead of being allowed to enjoy our home (temporary as it may be, it’s still our home) we were forced to flee from it on a regular basis. More than once I had polite conversations with the neighbor about this, and each time he was responsive, but also a tad sarcastic and condescending. He made remarks I think I was supposed to react to, but I did not, and when he began asking me probing questions about the family that owns the beach cabin I could tell he was testing me. When I didn’t have the answers to his questions, he seemed to get agitated, but I just shrugged my shoulders and admitted I was not very knowledgable about the history, or people, connected to the cabin. Each time we spoke, I stepped away with a renewed sense of hope, but it didn’t take very long to crush it. The banging would begin anew at 7am the next morning, or go until 8pm the next night, and you’d think we’d never had a conversation about the issue. It has been frustrating, to say the least. We’ve had to wake much earlier than we wanted to, leave our house before we had the desire to, and been forced to find ways to deal with the noise while remaining inside. Thankfully punkin hasn’t been as annoyed with it as I have - she’s been able to remain in the living room, whereas I had to retreat to the kitchen - but she still has her rough days. Actually, it’s the rough nights that lead to the rough days, and having a jerk off neighbor who doesn’t care hasn’t helped. Sometimes punkin doesn’t get more than a couple hours sleep, because her stomach gives her trouble and she either lays awake in pain, or has to run to the bathroom to throw up several times during the night. These long nights wouldn’t be so bad if she could lay down and get some rest when it’s all over with, but that’s not possible with 12hours worth of construction noises emanating from the house next door. You get the picture. One day, punkin was feeling good (and generous) so she decided to make cookies. Despite all the bullshit, she still felt like going over and sharing some with the neighbor. He received them, and I shit you not, didn’t even thank her for the effort. A young girl he was under the impression had cancer had made cookies, and the piece of garbage couldn’t even bring himself to say something nice. This, my friends, is what we have been dealing with. I am no saint. I’ve done plenty of “wrong” in my life, and will likely do a bit more before I am done, but I can proudly state I am not as big of a piece of shit as our neighbor is. No matter what my circumstances were, if I had someone approach me politely, state they have a serious disease, and then ask me to be quiet so they can get some rest I would do whatever necessary to honor that request. Short of shutting down my business, I would pick better hours to do the loud work, and maybe even coordinate with the person to do said loud work when they were not at home. That’s the kind of person I am, and for some reason it’s the kind of person I expect others to be. Maybe that is my problem - I expect common decency to prevail, but as my wise kiddo tells me, decency doesn’t seem to be so common anymore. |
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