I was going to the United States Women's National Team soccer Match the next evening (this was Carli Lloyd's last Match playing internationally), so I was hoping my folks would just drop it off at their place during the day. Came home, still saw the box there. So after I got home Wednesday I told my parents I will take the box over. And for some goddamn reason, they both said no. What the fuck?!
Their reason, and I don't get it: The delivery people (UPS, Federal Express, who knows) will realize they made a mistake, or the neighbors will ask what happened to it, and they'll come and pick it up. Because that's so much easier than just taking the fucking box and walking it over to them. Geez.
I was acting like a smartass after they told me not to bring it over. I think I got off a, "You really want to open up the box, don't ya?" to them, and they were acting like nothing but little bitches the rest of the night. This was one time where, instead of resenting them because I feared their wrath, I resented them because they made a decision which I truly, wholeheartedly believed (and still believe) is flat-out stupid. I have never heard of a deliveryman coming back to a house and saying, "Ope! I need to take back that package I put here by mistake! If you give it back to me, I can walk it over to your neighbor -- you know, that person who lives yards away from you, someone you might be friendly with, someone who could be friendly enough to start a conversation with you because, you know, you gave them a package that belongs to them! But don't worry, I'll do it instead of your lazy asses! Thank you!"
Laziness might be one reason. I wonder if fear is another. I have never spoken to them, but the neighbors have two signs showing they are progressive. To me, they seem like cool people (even though the Minnesotan in me dreads ever even waving to them if we're both outside). But when I suggested they should go over and drop the box off on their stoop, they were like, "NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!" as if Jeffrey fucking Dahmer lives there. I wonder how deeply Republican they are, but they hold conservative views, and I have a suspicion that they have an inkling of what those signs mean (I'm sure they don't totally understand what they mean) and don't want to even approach them.
(Sort of an aside: They don't talk to neighbors, therefore I don't talk to neighbors. But there are a couple people around us whom they love to meet with, and they'll gossip with them about all sorts of shit. My parents told me once that they chatted up a handyman who came by our other neighbors because that handyman was Hmong, and that guy apparently spilled the beans and tea about the people who live there. Also, for a long time, they were creepily friendly with the neighbor kitty-corner from us. I had never spoken to the woman who lived by herself there. Moreover, I never saw any indication that she was ever friendly to my folks. But sometimes they, and in particular My Father, would go out of their way to offer her anything, whether it be egg rolls or to shovel her driveway. Fucking strange. Oh, one night I came home and saw cop cars and fire trucks in front of her home. Apparently she barricaded herself inside it and they had to go in there and drag her out. The house was put up for sale days later. My parents can pick the friendly neighbors, can't they?)
Finally, on Thursday, Father told me to just bring the box over. I did. Happily for me, I didn't see the neighbors, either in the front yard or stirring inside the house. I left it on the stoop, then walked back home. No out-of-nowhere incident with strangers, and now, no friction with the 'Rents at home.
Alright. Fine. It's over.
No comments:
Post a Comment