Neighbor

Yesterday when I got home I noticed that my neighbor’s garage was open and my neighbor was sitting at her desk.  I thought “Yippee!”  She agreed to feed our cats while we’re gone and I really don’t see her that often.  Time to go give her the schedule and the key.

I have to pay for the cat-sitting every time.  Two or three times per vacation.  And that payment is visiting with her for a half hour to an hour.  But she’s a nice lady. She doesn’t gossip about the neighbors and she loves gardening and her dog.  So we talk about her yard, her health, her dog’s health and the weather and the visit isn’t too onerous.  I also pay her cash money.  Pretty close to what I’d have to pay for a professional pet sitter.

The problem is that while I like her, I also hate her.  I have a magnet on my refrigerator that says “A neat house is the sign of a misspent life.”  If that’s true, this lady’s life has been totally misspent.  There is never anythingout of place in her house.  It’s not to my taste, with flowery prints in teal and pink.  I don’t think I saw one single dead leaf in her garden.  And while I really don’t want to emulate her, geez, do I ever feel like a slacker when I go over there.

But, however much she makes me itch, I’m glad she’s there.  She’s reliable and conscientious.  She likes the cats and keeps an eye on the house. 

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