Despise Thy Neighbor

Nice People Got No Reason To Live

I hate new neighbors. I don’t care what anyone says. It isn’t nice of me, but there it is. I’ll admit they’re nice people. Everyone says, “They’re so nice”. Especially at church, where evidently their official title is “The Nice People”. Jeez. I’ve never felt comfortable around people who are overly or famously “nice”. It gets my goat. It makes me nervous and gives me goose bumps. I become a menagerie of ticks and other animal recoils.

Some Neighbors Are Not Creepy

I’ve had neighbors, even in this same neighborhood, ones who are still here, and they’ve never driven me to distraction and poisoned every conversation with wanting to be helpful. Offering cookies, soup, favors, tools, services, and an insulting amount of advice about things I generally know enough about—I’m just too lazy to do them yet. Yes, I’ve had helpful neighbors before, but they kept their damn hat on about it. They’d wait until they saw you struggling with something before they offered help, and then they’d generously offer to help. And they’d back off if you declined the help. They kept their distance. They did not keep encroaching. That’s the way I like it!

Unbearable Do-Gooders

I find that “nice people” perpetually on the lookout for good deeds to perform give me the feeling that they’re constantly butting into my business. Oh, they’re polite. But I can’t see where being polite cancels out being a buttinsky. I can never decide if they’re genuinely innocent Pollyannas or clones of Christ Incarnate that they can’t get it through their heads to back off. Get out of my yard, don’t stand on my toes, get outta my face!

Have they never lived next door to someone who didn’t want to be sucked up to, buttered up, or befriended? Is it possible that I am a man of too great subtlety to them? Have you ever found me to be a man of subtlety? I think not!

Good Fences Make What?

Maybe they’re just that critical of my housekeeping and yard care skills. Such subtlety on their part, however, is beginning to surpass all forbearance on my part. I wouldn’t mind them looking down their noses on my upkeep of the property, but I don’t want to talk about it to them, not even in this indirect manner. I wish they’d shove a wolverine up their ass and twist its tail rather than to keep reminding me of it under the pretense of being Helpful Fella and Helpful Missy, the goody two-shoes twins! Blech! I’m fed up with it. Maybe it’s time to put up a fence. But then they’ll probably offer to paint it!

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