Sooooo, my new pad is actually a duplex, which is a big, big improvement over the previous apartment where I was surrounded on all sides.
That said, my previous neighbors weren't all bat *feces* crazy. The lady upstairs is all if that, and evidently carries a grudge as well. She apparently has no job, because she is always underfoot.
Whatever.
As anybody who has met me knows, I'm a light smoker, by which I mean if the lights are on anywhere in the known universe, I'm probably going to have a cigarette before tooo long, even if I just finished one.
Now, clearly there's no smoking IN the apartment, it's just understood. So, my usual habit is to walk a little bit down the driveway and have one, unless it's raining or (and this is important) it's early in the morning or late at night, when I sit my porch. I do this because it's hidden from view, and sometimes in the morning I'm not, like, dressed or anything.
Now, the problem is that my porch sits under the neighbor lady's back door. GENERALLY, I check to make sure it's closed, unless maybe it's a little later than I thought it was Saturday morning and I had a wee bit of a PBR hangover (that Farewell Farrah session went a little long
). So, I stepped out about 8:30 Saturday morning, had a smoke as coffee was brewing and went back in to find: NO CREAMER.
So, I threw on some shorts and headed off to the 7-11 and got some milk.
Upon my return, I am treated to the sight of the neighbor lady standing on her back porch glaring at me. I mean, this was one of those looks that we've all seen.
I (being an idiot) say: 'Morning, what's up?'
'My WHOLE HOUSE SMELLS LIKE CIGARETTE SMOKE!'
'Umm, gee didn't notice that your door was open'
and I just walked into my house.
Now, I didn't apologize exactly, but I certainly admitted to the Mea Culpa.
This should be over, yes? Oh, no, not on your *goshdarn* life. Not by a long shot.
A couple of hours later I head off, and she buttonholes me in the side drive (it's a corner lot. I park and enter on one corner, she on the other). I am treated to a rather extensive lecture about courtesy, and how bad it all smells, and on and on.
This does not go the way she expects it to. She expects me to lay down and flagellate myself while admitting what a horrible human being I am.
Instead, I (rather less that politely) suggest that maybe she should develop a more rich and fulfilling life, one that may preclude her from obsessing all morning about a little stray cigarette smoke. I explain to her, again not very politely, (because really, *fudge* her anyway) that I usually look up to make sure that the door is closed, have done so daily for almost 3 months, this morning I just *goshdarn* didn't think about it, and I will endeavor to be better about it in the future.
And, basically drive off to spend the rest of the day doing not much.
Now, this is all Saturday. She was gone all day yesterday, presumably to the Mayo Clinic to ensure that she has not contracted Emphysema from the horror of Saturday morning.
I assume this unpleasantness is all over. So would any reasonable person.
We are not dealing with a reasonable person, not by a *goshdarn* long shot (I have other evidence of this. I'm guessing I'll have more).
THIS morning (Monday) she buttonholes me AGAIN in the side drive, as I'm heading off to work (and just a hair late at that):
'I'd really appreciate it if you'd stay 25 feet away from the building when you smoke. That's the law, and I don't want to be an *bunghole* about it'.
WTF, this is 2 days ago and NOW you're threatening me?
'Well, that (the *bunghole*) bridge has been crossed, and this isn't a public building, it's a private residence. You reside up there, and I reside down here. Do whatever the *fudge* you have to do, because I'm late for work.'
And I drive off.
Guess what? STILL NOT OVER!
JUST got off the phone with the land lady, who is one half of a really nice old hippy couple who own this little dump, which happens to overlook 3 fairways of the worst goat track in King County. Seems the nice upstairs lady called her way the hell in Canada (where they live now) to complain that I smoked a cigarette and some of it got in her house. Presumably because the Seattle PD didn't really want to hear about it, or at the very least wouldn't send a SWAT team.
She informs me that the lease says I'm not to smoke on the property.
There's one problem: The lease says nothing of the kind, not in any of the 8 pages. Not only that, it doesn't broach the subject at all, not even a whisper.
I know this because I've looked at it several times.
Legally, I could come home from work, and spend the entire evening with the windows closed and all the ventilation duck taped over and just leave lit cigarettes all over the damn place.
So, I (actually nicely this time) inform the nice hippy lady that the lease says nothing of the kind, whereupon she pulls her copy out and finds out that it damn sure doesn't.
I suggest that she either: Amend the lease, (which I might fight just to be an ass), or leave it alone and be rest assured that I'm doing everything a reasonable, responsible adult smoker does. Which includes NOT smoking in the obviously never smoked in actual dwelling.
She seemed OK with B.
How the lady upstairs feels, I give not a crap.
