On Being Creepy

"Dear Brian, You are a nice and also very serious person. In study hall, I saw both sides. I know you can’t stand incompetence but I know that you will be patient until the world catches up." Love, Mrs. Harris 2003, High School Yearbook.

She at least got part of it right.

There are two things that I consider non-negotiable. Being regularly on time and doing things you say you’re going to do. In my ideal world everyone would do what they said they would and the bitches would be on time. The following is a tale of neither of those things happening and how sometimes for no reason at all and certainly not because I’m losing my cool, my left eyelid twitches. I assure you neither of these are related. I’m just training for the eyelid Olympics. We gotta beat those Russians. Yeah. Good. Glad we’re on the same page.

Alright, so last we left our dashing and brilliant hero, I, errr, I mean he,  he  was dealt the double blow of produce that literally was going to rot in the store AND barely three windows in which to grow any sort of vegetables that might salve his tomato craving broken heart. (That’s not to say he didn’t try, but that’s more a snifter of port and a cosy blanket sorta story, stay tuned!)

Anywho, I walk around my neighborhood a lot. I mean creepily a lot, I check out the neighbors yards, make judgey sideways glances at their paltry attempt at a front garden and take note of their wall hangings. Hi my name is Brian and sometimes I can’t help thinking that my neighbors yard needs, no, demands a handful of flower boxes and perhaps some better ground cover than concrete. I know. I have a problem. But all of this is okay because all these creepy neighborhood judge-fests are because I have to walk the dog. Girl loves to pee every two feet and I’m a sucker for a stroll. We know, we’re seeking help at our own pace, back off. So, on these walks I’ve noticed a few seemingly semi-public (as public as a 10 foot fence padlocked shut is) gardens. I knew I just had to get in one.

Alright new friends, now we’re ready to really share. Are you ready? I hope so. Something you should know about me: I am persistent. Imagine that Mom. Really, my mom, imagining her? On the side of the field, in the school office, at the doctors? She knows what she wants and dammit she’s going to get it. You give me a lady in a pantsuit with her eyes on the prize and the guts and gall to get it and I’m sold. It’s not that I don’t understand the word “no”, it’s just that until I hear that word accompanied with a reasonable and logical explanation I’MA HUNT YOU DOWN UNTIL I GET WHAT I NEED. I blame my upbringing, I know, I’m seeking help, but in the meantime crazybitchtigermom got himself a garden plot due to his persistence, so eat it.

For real though, the saga that was getting a plot in the garden was in itself a novella sized story of ridiculous. All told it took me 2 1/2 weeks of daily, if not twice daily, door knocking and bell ringing, a note posted to his front door, a note given to a neighbor to give to him and a note posted to the gate door to get a hold of the coordinator of the garden. I was clearly determined, fortunately having a scruffy mini schnauzer bopping along made my efforts seem less crazy garden stalker and more casual dog walker. Dogs really are the best way to completely normalize, bizarre behavior. Hoarding curb finds? Bring a dog! Being nosy and want to check the planning permits for a new building? Bring a dog! I know, I’m sick, very very sick.
The kicker of course comes that after finally getting a hold of him and being told “Meet at the garden at 2 on saturday” and after rearranging my weekend, HE INSTEAD WENT UPSTATE TO PICK UP HIS SON FROM COLLEGE. I know guys, at this point, both eyes, actually twitching. I won’t even mention that though his house phone had no answering machine and his cell phone voice mail box was full, the man knew what Text Messaging was AND responded, surprises all around.
 I’m still not entirely convinced I have a garden plot and instead am dreaming and will wake up, still creepily walking around the neighborhood, muttering about beefsteak tomatoes, dragging a now quite tired mini schnauzer.