I found this note in my letterbox this morning.
“Mow your grass you pigs.”
Here is the note.
And here is my grass.
And here is what I posted on my facebook page.
To the person who left this note in my letterbox, at first I was so ashamed and angry. But now I feel nothing but pity for you. You must lead a sad sort of existence if an untidy front lawn prompts you to leave a rude note in a stranger’s letterbox. The grass is long, but so is my love for my children, my passion for my husband, my joy in their company, my delight in our friends and my fulfilment from challenging work. I hope one day you find the same.
The longer I reflect on the note, the more perplexed I become.
Who leaves a passive aggressive note in a letterbox? Why wouldn’t you just come and knock on the door and ask us to take some time to mow the lawn?
What if my husband or I had a terminal illness that prevented us from tending our lawn? What if we had been away?
What if the note had been an offer of help? I’ve noticed your grass is getting long. Is there something I can do to help you? (My husband, who is now resolutely not mowing the lawn this weekend, remarked that a note like that would have spurred him into immediate action.)
Look. I could lie to you and tell you I live a perfect life.
I could tell you that my furniture matches, my crockery isn’t chipped and my clothes are ironed.
I could tell you that my house is spotless and that my garden is precise.
But that’s not the life I live, nor do I desire an existence like that.
The truth is, there is nothing stopping me from using my spare time to scrub my house and children to within an inch of our lives. There’s nothing preventing me from nagging my husband to the point of divorce to trim the hedges and mow the lawn.
Except that they would resent it and I would hate myself.
I measure my success in life by the joy and fulfilment I feel and the happiness I see in my family.
If my neighbour measures success by living in a suburban dreamscape then I feel sorry for him.
Have you received a nasty letter from a neighbour before?
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Story Time! My roommate and I once lived in a small granny flat (advertised as a 'comfy unit' lol - no. But that was all we could afford, and another story). The person living in the 'main' house was a teacher like me - and I assumed we would get along, despite our age difference. Uh, no. He neglected to tell us that he played the flute, clarinet and piano...extremely loudly, all hours of the day, and with every single window and door open in his house. We could hear it regardless if our windows were shut, open, or if our (portable) aircon was on. One night, almost 4 months after tolerating it, the flute accompanied me for several hours as I vomited with a stomach bug and hallucinated a giant flute coming to eat me. The next night it was my roommates turn to get it - and he desperately needed to pass out -but couldn't because of the noise. I politely went over, knocked on the open window and explained the situation. He said "It can't be annoying you - you haven't complained in four months", and tried to continue. I explained that yes it could - and that if he didn't please stop; then I would be forced to complain to the real estate about him breaking noise restrictions. After that, he got extremely nasty - began banging on our windows every time my roommate played a video on YouTube, or I practiced my singing (realism here - half an hour every Saturday at about 2PM compared to his four hours in a row every day from 7 -11 on 3 different instruments) and once -even told me that I wasn't allowed to wear a bikini into OUR pool because he was worried about his 10yo son getting an 'idea' or doing something 'inappropriate with the image'....Needless to say - I instead went back inside and refused to get in. Ew.
I was raised in a home with two disabled parents. As a child mowing the lawn wasn't going to get done unless I did it... and I was too little to pull the start cord myself. Sometimes I could get a neighbor to do it for me. Sometimes I'd get so busy with elementary school that the lawn would be let go. We had a lot of nasty notes left too and sometimes calls to the city which would result in fines for my parents. My point is.... asking to help would have gotten everyone so much farther. Do you really know your neighbor? Do you know why their grass is long? Offer to help.