certifiably insane

I think my neighbor is certifiably insane. As in wacko, loony, psycho, off her rocker.

I went by my place last night after work to check on the progress. As I walked up to my door, my neighbor (you know, the one I had to send the lawyer’s letter to) approached me. At first, I thought she was going to say hello. But no, I was giving her too much credit.

“I think your men were over here drinking beer in front of my place,” she barked at me, gesturing to the beer bottle and rearranged chairs in front of her door. I know that the guys I have doing the work on my place aren’t those kind of people, so I told her I would mention it to them but I didn’t think they did it.

“Well, me and my roommate don’t drink beer, and we’re gone all day, so when I see these strange trucks here and know they’re the only strangers around….” she ranted.

“If you’re not here all day,” I said calmly, “then you don’t know what strangers come around here, right?”

She huffed and puffed in her usual way as I opened the door to my place. Once I closed the door, I learned that earlier, she had gone up to one of the guys (a super nice guy at that) and told him that she had seen him sitting in his truck for two weeks, and she knows he’s the neighborhood drug dealer, yadda yadda yadda, insanity insanity insanity.

Goodness. That woman has serious issues. I was talking about it with Guy…I really need to just remind myself that she is crazy, she’s not all there, and let the things she says just fly right past me. I should ignore her when she’s behaving like that, because she’s in her own little crazy lady world, and nothing I say or do is going to bring her out of it.

But on another note, I hope to be back in my place by the end of next week! They are painting now, and the hardwood and carpet goes in next week. Yippee!