In today’s edition of Townhome Twits, Eyeore.
But first…today at lunch I (foolishly) drove over to the strip mall with Byerlys (grocery store) so I could
feed my book addiction spend too much money eat at Barnes & Noble. And read. This is the same Byerlys where a random old lady accosted me with racist commentary about how the neighborhood USED to be (which is why I no longer eat in the Byerlys diner area unless it’s nice enough to be outside).
I paused for pedestrians like a decent driver (who doesn’t like blood on the mustang OR filling out police reports) for a couple of teenage girls leaving the grocery store. One looked like any other teenager (and thus, I have NO IDEA what she looked like at all). The other looked like an Oompa Loompa had unfortunate sex with a 60’s flower child. She was glowing in that unhealthy, Chernobyl sort of way under her short-shorts, and her bright magenta dye job was held down by a headband that looked like she’s pulled it all forward and didn’t understand that headbands aren’t crowns. Or tiaras. And she wasn’t wearing enough flowery bits to be a true hippie. Apparently the combo of hair dye and skin dye made her cranky, because I was given her most severe hairy eyeball look (also known as the stink-eye, if you aren’t familiar). As an approximately 17 year old, she did a pretty good snarky teenage girl look, but the effect was ruined by her orange. And I was utterly unable to not chuckle.
I SO WISH I’d gotten a picture.
And on that note, let’s discuss Eeyore and Woody.
Eeyore lives across the driveway from my townhome, right next to the CIA Sneaky Peeper. I suspect that drives some of her woe-is-me attitude, because honestly, who WOULDN’T be woe-is-me sharing walls with that dude?
The unit on the other side of hers was abandoned for over a year (the former owner passed away and his widow went somewhat off the deep end into drugs and such). Therefore Eeyore was constantly convinced that 1) SOMEONE was cooking meth in the abandoned house and 2) that I, being on the HOA Board at the time, should do something about it. I said “call the cops” because let’s be realistic here: I’m only intimidating to certain types of people, and I’m 99.99% certain methheads and drug dealers are not included.
I actually have quite a bit of sympathy for Eeyore. She lived alone for a very long time, and I never EVER see company at her house. I’d not assume that means anything, except she gives off the desperation odor whenever I see her. You know that look: a little too much hope in the eyes combined with the hunched over posture that screams “I need to tell you how much everything sucks.” I listened to her in the beginning, because I thought I should and felt bad if she has no one to talk to (I discovered otherwise quite fast, and the Whirlwind Bitch, Eeyore’s best friend, is another topic).
Also, she’s nosy as hell, which is both a detriment and a boon to our complex. I mean, when the crazy methhead dude (unrelated to the meth house next door to her, which turned out NOT to be a meth house and now has a very nice couple and their dog renting it) ran through our complex the first year we lived there, I was happy she was home to call the cops.
But when she suggested that the board should keep a list of all residents living in our community and the license numbers for every car, I firmly told her that’s NOBODY’S business but the homeowners’ and she needs to get a different hobby (other than wandering around the parking lot looking for out-of-date license tags or visitor parking violators).
GOOD GODS can you imagine the amount of work that would’ve been for the board? NO FRICKEN WAY lady. No fricken way.
Instead, she got a dog…and now she has an excuse to walk around and look in windows, backyards, and cars every day while she walks Woody. Woody, the long-haired mini-daschund, is ridiculously cute and quite charming. Unfortunately, Woody hasn’t removed any of Eeyore’s generally glum attitude or outlook on life, and so Husband and I quietly go the other way when she’s outside, except to return a wave and “hello” from a distance.
I listen to a LOT of people who need, emotionally. Eeyore is one of those who would suck out every drop of helpful energy a person possesses and point out just how shitty YOUR life is, as well. Yeah. No time for that, even though I do pity that she sees her life as so miserable.
Side note: when I ran Spell Checker (which doesn’t recognize important terms like “meth” and “Methhead”) I discovered I spelled “Eeyore” in about 15 different combinations. All of which are now fixed. You’re welcome.