Then we discovered the bakery across the street. Yesterday.

“Our neighbors are baking bread AGAIN? Potheads.”

Off-the-Job Training

I had a teacher-on-a-powertrip moment the other day. Not in my classroom, but in my apartment.

It’s hot. I have the windows open. I’m listening to music on my laptop to help pass the time as I wash the dishes.

I hear a knock on my front door that is wide open because of my ever-present trust in the world (read: false sense of security). It’s just the storm door in between me and … well, apparently creepy random guys (CRGs).

Iris, of course, darts to the door with ears back and tail wagging. Is it my neighbors? Is The Boyfriend Who Shall Remain Nameless playing a joke on me?

Nope; it’s a grinning CRG.

I open the door juuuust a crack to keep the appearance that I am NOT instantly judging the CRG as a CRG. Awkward! He maintains the characteristic grin as he asks, “Do I hear you playing music?”

I put on my super-snotty, “Who are YOU” face and give a snippy little “NO” followed by a door-in-the-face.

My CRG moment is over as far as I’m concerned. Knowing, however, that they sometimes linger (I average a few of these a year), I stand in front of the window so he clearly knows I’m watching him leave.

What does this brazen CRG do?? He’s at my garbage can – still grinning – nonchalantly lifting a bag out of it!

“Oh no he din’t” possess my mind and body as I march myself right outside and yell – no, sternly ask – “PUT THAT BACK.” He turns and – you guessed it – grins.

“You heard me. PUT IT BACK or I will call the police.”

Apparently there isn’t much of a difference between a CRG and a middle schooler. Head bowed, he’s off his bike like an obedient child and placing the garbage bag back where he found it.
Ahhh, the sweet smell of power.

*Afterword: I read an article in the Trib today about two armed robberies occurring over the weekend in the area you might roughly call “my neighborhood.” Hmm, maybe I should tuck the power trip away and just lock my stinkin’ door.