Over the past year and a half, I’ve written on numerous occasions about my next door neighbor. In order to protect the not-so-innocent, I’ve charitably referred to him as Mr. Asshole Neighbor. Mr. Neighbor has been alternately unpleasant, unstable, and downright menacing depending on when we happened to catch his act.
Over the past few months, I’ve solved the problem by simply ignoring Mr. Neighbor. I finally figured that, after he verbally abused my wife, I was either going to ignore him or fillet him. Not being a violent person by nature, ignoring him seemed a more mature (and more legal) choice.
Mr. Neighbor has never been particularly good at maintaining his yard (his swimming pool resembles a toilet), but over the past few months things have become progressively worse. Now that mowing season is upon us, the jungle next door has become impossible to ignore.
This week, Susan told me that Mr. Neighbor has been diagnosed with colon and prostate cancer. Being the charitable, kind-hearted sort that she is, she immediately began thinking of how we could help him. Me? I was busy thinking about how karma is truly a remarkable thing. That’s right; I’m not nearly as quick to forgive and forget as Susan is.
Susan then came up with the idea of mowing Mr. Neighbor’s lawn for him while he and his wife were at church. Personally, I had a hard time imagining what a man so hypocritical and mean-spirited could possibly gain by going to church. Besides, the man is a miserable excuse for a human being. Why would I possibly want to help someone who, prior to our last conversation, had just verbally amused my wife?
The reality is that my wife is a better and more forgiving person than I am, and she finally convinced me that helping a neighbor in need is always a good thing. With that in mind, another neighbor and I cut and edged Mr. Neighbor’s jungle this morning while he and his wife were at church. We didn’t tell them prior to doing it; we just did it and then went on about our business.
A couple of hours later, Mrs. Neighbor knocked on my door, and practically fell over herself expressing her gratitude. And then it dawned on me: sometimes doing a good thing is reward enough. Later in the afternoon, Mr. Neighbor thanked me. An apology for being such a flaming asshole over the past year or so would have been better, but if gratitude is the best he can do, I’ll settle for that. Of course, being the cynical sort that I am, I’m wondering how long it will be before Mr. Neighbor goes off on Susan again. Then again, perhaps the cancer will humble him. It would sure as hell be a nice change.
