Ok, so being on the Council of Owners for your strata is pretty much a poisoned chalice. Sure, you get to make (small group) decisions on things without consulting a whole bunch of people, but sometimes you are overruled even though British Racing Green is CLEARLY a better choice for fencing and mailboxes than grey as fuck grey.
Also, you get pulled into debates about parking spaces. Who has what, who’s parking where, who’s complaining, why the nice man who takes out the bins and does the maintenance keeps on abusing your neighbour for parking in a legitimate place and everyone suspects he’s a bit racist but no one wants to say it. Who scratched who’s car because you’ve basically got 1.5 inches on either side to get into the goddamn carpark in between two cars (ok, one time it was me but I will deny deny deny because you car was parked like a drunk person did it), one of which has no business parking there.
But the upside to this story is my next door neighbour Deb. Deb is in her 60s and we work/wake/sleep at totally different times. I’ve seen her once since the stuff that made me go crazy which I feel massively bad about as we used to see each other and hang out and drink fizzy and play music and chat at least once a month before then.
So on WA DAY (oooh yeah), which I celebrated by working, I came home to find a beautiful bunch of flowers from her with a card wishing me “a Happy WA Day” because she’s basically an amazing person. Last time she left me a CD which was completely super.
I am humbled by her attention. I’m also pretty sure it is her who props my daily newspaper up against my door after I left that passive-aggressive note about people stealing my paper in the hallway.
So on Friday I’m buying a bottle of fizzy (her favourite – I hear her popping the corks every night) and I’m going round to hang out. Because everybody needs good neighbours and sometimes you just need friends who live next door.