The other day a neighbor offered to prune back our lemon tree that's totally mental. It grows straight up like it's racing all the other trees to the sun. We've cut it back several times and every time we do it gives us a hearty middle finger and takes off once again up into the sky. It's a monster. So I said Fine, have at it - would love the help, as I am clearly not an arborist.
So I came home from being out & about yesterday to see that he had, indeed, pruned that sucker back to the trunk. It looks great, and maybe this will help convince it that it's a tree and not a rocket. Then I noticed that the softball I'd left sitting on the ground next to the trunk was gone. Who takes someone else's softball without asking?
I don't care if he has a son who might actually play with it or if his wife is on a star softball team and always needs a spare - you don't take shit without asking. So I left a note on the fence thanking him for taking care of the tree & asked what happened to the softball.
Did he think I didn't know it was there? Probably. But I suspect he won't make that ASSumption again. Like I don't know what's in my own backyard. Douche.
It's like the other neighbor who thought it would be fine to use our gardening bin without asking. Just rolled it over to their yard like they were going to weed an entire golf course and would need the extra bin. Of course I'm happy to share, but not when someone takes shit for granted and just... takes.
I went over and asked if I could use my own bin and she said, "Oh, you're gardening today?" like I need to clear that with her first. This was the one who wanted to block off my driveway so I couldn't use it without her coming out to remove the cones, so her kids could learn how fun and safe it is to play in someone else's driveway. Someone who likes to drive a lot and doesn't always look for kids in the driveway because she doesn't have any and that's almost the most stupid place to let kids play aside from the street.
This morning I looked out the window and saw the softball on the ground where he dropped it over the fence. No note saying "Sorry, didn't mean to be a thieving douche." Just the ball.
Now, if he'd left me a note asking if he could have the ball, I'da wrapped it up in fancy tissue paper and delivered it with fresh baked cookies, 'cause he did a nice thing pruning that tree. But now, forget it. I'm keeping it in an empty flower pot where it'll sit for another dozen years while his son grows up and learns how to set things on fire with a magnifying glass.
Shoulda asked.