Annoyance Becomes Advantage

When you live in a small apartment, you assume it’s the closest you’ll get to living with strangers.  Then you move into a ranch house on a cul-de-sac.  You’re free from hearing bumping and thumping noises above and below you, but you’re imprisoned in five family’s business.  They’ve become relatives: they’re not in your house all the time, but they can really screw things up if you’re around them too often.

When we first moved into this goldfish bowl, we’d drive up to our house and rush right in.  We weren’t used to people waving and starting up conversations.  We’d check outside to see if anyone was out before we’d get the mail.  We’d think of excuses to run in the house if we didn’t check thoroughly enough.

Now we find excuses to go outside to chat with the neighbors.  They’re the ones making excuses to return to their homes swiftly.  We’ve beaten them at this game.

No matter what the reason, whenever a garage door goes up in the cul, it’s like a magnet sucking the neighbors away from their warm kitchens.  “What are you doing?” they’ll ask.  It doesn’t matter if you don’t know yet.  They’re being neighborly.

I spent my weekends painting the outside of the house last summer.  I’d wake up early and get started early.  Within minutes, I’d have a crowd of people standing around watching me.  “Are you going to spray or use a roller?” they’d ask.  “What about the trim?   How are you going to get the second story?”

I’d be on scaffolding twenty feet up in the air and the neighbor kids would sit below and watch me.  They’d ask me questions, but since I couldn’t hear a word they said, they’d stop eventually.  They’d sit there for hours, no kidding. 

One day I got up particularly early and started painting by the front door.  Within ten minutes, the loudest kid in the cul came over to have a look at my work.  He sat down and started talking.  “My Mom painted my Uncle’s front door three times,” he said.  “He still doesn’t like the color.  She has to go over there and paint it blue.  I hate blue.”

Oddly, the more he talked, the more I enjoyed it.  I stopped getting annoyed and started listening.

“Why do you hate blue?”

“Front doors look better white.  If it’s nothing special, it should be white.”

I thought about this while he continued to talk.  Listening to this kid talk was like listening to “This American Life” with Ira Glass.  Ira Glass often talks to adults about when they were kids.  I was listening to a kid talking about adults.  Knowing some of the adults made it even more interesting than a radio show. 

From then on, I never made excuses to go inside when the neighbor kids were out, even if they were loud when the windows were open.

The loudest neighbor kid bumped up the decibels by getting a go-cart.  He drives it in circles all afternoon, screaming and laughing and accelerating. 

Jenn isn’t used to living in a cul-de-sac, or anywhere with so many suburban kids.  This week she’s staying in the bedroom with a cul-de-sac window.  Whenever a kid sneezes outside, she hears it as if the kid’s in her room.  We lived in this room a month before having to move to the back bedroom.  We couldn’t sleep in with all the screaming.

“That kid is obnoxious,” Jenn said when the kid started up his go-cart this afternoon.  “When he goes out, I’m the first to know.”

Charlie came home earlier than usual from work and decided to work a little on the deck before dinner.  The neighbor kid saw him open the garage door, put on his tool belt and start moving wood around.  He put his go-cart away and stood outside, watching him.

Jenn went outside to watch him, too.  She doesn’t say much, but she takes everything in.  She looks and listens and figures everything out.

She’s still trying to figure Charlie out.  She’s his oldest, but she grew up in New Mexico with her Mom.  This is the first time she’s been around him as an adult for more than a few hours at a time.  She must have been curious to see how Charlie would act around this loud neighbor kid.

Like Pavlov’s dogs, the loud neighbor kid came right over as soon as he heard the sound of Charlie’s saw.    

“What are you doing there, Charlie?”

“Building a deck.”

The loud neighbor kid was quiet for a moment, observing.  “Is that gonna be a roof?”

“A trellis,” Charlie said.  “Like a roof, but for decoration.  Plants grow around it.”

“Cool.”

He watched quietly for another moment. 

“My Dad sucks at this,” the neighbor kid said.  “He’s good with metal but he’s not good with wood.”

“I’m not good with metal but I’m good with wood.”

“I guess so.”

Charlie got out his drill and figured he could use the kid’s help, since he wasn’t going anywhere.  “Hold this board while I nail it in place.”

The neighbor kid couldn’t jump fast enough.  He held boards until Charlie ran out. 

“Look away while I saw this board,” Charlie told the kid, so the kid wouldn’t have to leave.  The neighbor boy did as he was told.

“You want to hold this one down now?” Charlie asked.

“Sure.”

Charlie ran out of boards again.  This time he said, “Hey, kid, why don’t you put those pop cans back in the bag while I saw this board?”

“Okay!”

The kid got to work cleaning up our garage.  Jenn sat and watched everything, not saying a word, until the kid left to go inside for dinner.

 “Why did you make that kid do work for you?” she asked.

“They love it,” Charlie said.  “It makes them feel useful.”

“If they’re working for you, you should pay them.”

“I’m not going to pay them.  They’re annoying.  They talk and ask questions the whole time I’m out here working.  If they were working for me, I’d have fired them.”

Jenn went back into the house without saying anything.  When she doesn’t have anything more to say, it means she understands.  She may not agree, but she doesn’t disagree.  I’m guessing she’s happy the cul-de-sac is once again peaceful and quiet, even if the neighbor kid cleans up our garage and doesn’t get paid. 

It takes a while to get used to living in a cul-de-sac.

A little help? [] 9:59:23 PM