A warm welcome home

I had a different post in mind for today, but the day decided otherwise. This needs to be unleashed because it bothers me.

We arrived back home in Freising, after a nice long trip made possible by the generous German parental leave conditions. Thank you Germany. I may not always be nice to you, but deep down I do appreciate you. But don’t tell anyone!

I had mixed feelings about returning home. Don’t get me wrong, I like being home. My home is very important to me. Yet, I had a knot in my stomach all day, and I could feel a nasty energy overtake my body the closer I got to Freising, the Bavarian toen we call home. When I say I love my home, I talk about the concept of a home. I love that specific and strong familiarity of a place, where you can walk through the house at night in the dark, and without any form of conscious choice or thinking, you can find your way to the toilet and back without bumping into stuff. A place where you know which doors creak, and which don’t. A place with a big couch to hang on. A place where only you and the family have stuff to say. What I explicitly do not include in its description is its location. Our home is located in a very nice location, but also in the worse place possible: right on top of my downstairs neighbor’s apartment.

Regular readers may remember my neighbor’s increasing intolerance towards us as her upper neighbors, for the sole reason that she hates kids, or well, no, she says she loves kids. Our kids. She hates our kids. Because they walk around, and she hears them. And she’s a fucking hermit that is always home 100 percent of the time. And us having a toddler and a baby, yes, we are regularly at home, too. Although, to be honest, I think we score pretty high on the being away scale. No difference to her. She still hates our guts.

Anyway, we’ve been patient and accommodating to all her peculiarities and silly requests but we received complaints and stonewalling treatments in return. Our most recent one-way interactions have been letters requesting that we remove shelves from her wall, but since I did as she asked, and fixed and plugged all holes as well, I figured life would be quiet for a while. She has little legal stuff to pick on us now.

Well it was quiet for a while indeed, but mostly because we were away.

Well this bitch must have missed us while we were gone, because in whatever messed up state she was in, she concocted her next bullshit engagement – a welcome present.

When we arrived home today, I immediately went for the mailbox. I almost felt that there was something waiting for us. That nasty feeling I described earlier must have been a warning sign. Heike said she felt the same way. It turned out that she wrote us another letter in our absence. The content laughable, but the fact that she takes the effort to write us a letter, without addressing us in person, or signing off with her name pisses me off to the depth of my soul. Well, the fact that she doesn’t have the fucking guts to tell me in person that it isn’t nice to completely fill the paper waste with paper waste – that – pisses me off! The fact that at least three quarters of the paper waste she mentions was not even ours, doesn’t even matter.

Ugh. I don’t easily hate people, but this piece really makes it very tempting.

So there you have it: a warm welcome home.

What’s your worst neighbor experience?

Published by Robin Heinen

Father of two | Husband | Entomologist and Ecologist | Postdoctoral Researcher @ TUM | Traveler | Coffee Addict

4 thoughts on “A warm welcome home

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