Found an aynonomous note in my mailbox this afternoon. One of the neighbors was unhappy with the grass growing in the cracks of the driveway and weeds by the mailbox. Truthfully, they were in need of attention, and I had planned to take care of them this last Thursday when I mowed the lawn, but I was so swamped with stuff to do because I am starting work again next week that I forgot.

The note told me I should take better care of my property and that they had called the city to report me. Okay. Why call the city before reminding me first? I don’t know my neighbors really. We had just moved in here when my hsband was diagnosed with his illness. Because his brain was greatly affected his behavior was very strange – not dangerous – but odd – and the neighbors sorta shunned us. The people on either side of me know that he has since died, but I don’t know if anyone else does. I can do most anything else where the house is concerned, but for some reason the lawn work is the easist to neglect. I suppose it is because it is the hugest reminder of being a widow. Yardwork is such a stereotypical husband chore. My husband was fanatical about me not mowing the lawn, or doing any sort of landscaping myself, simply because it was the one guy thing he did well.

He wasn’t enamoured of home improvement. The only thing he could do with the car was change the oil (and one of his friends, who was a major gearhead, told me I shouldn’t even let him do that, in his opinion). But he really loved being able to keep up the yard. It was a source of pride.

Next summer I am going to get a service. Money should be better because I have my masters now and will be getting a raise in a few months. And of course the biggest reason I shun my yard is the guy who lives to my west (the one I suspect left the note). He watches me all the time. I hate to be out when he is around, and he nearly always is because he doesn’t work, just sits in his garage all day long either on the phone or watching tv (everyone in my neighborhood has a tv room in their garage – a very weird suburban thing).

Anyway, the note really rocked me and spoiled the plans I had for the afternoon. I tried to carry on but couldn’t. Came home early and did the lawn work. I don’t expect people to know about my situation, but when I see a home that is looking unkempt or rundown (believe me – my house looks like everyone else’s around here but for the slightly shaggy spots on the driveway), I immediately wonder what might be going on – a death, illness, loss of employment, elderly person with no children. There are a ton of reasons.

I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks, and I have been lax with the lawn, which I know better than to do in a neighborhood like this where yards are probably nicer than the insides of the houses they sit in front of, but it would have been nice if someone had gently reminded me or asked me if I needed help or something other than a threat. Ultimately this is not the neighborhood that my daughter and I will live in for a long time. I have known that for a while, and I need to stop caring once and for all about superficial people and their strange priorities. There are more important things in life.