My Neighbors: The Final Chapter

So last night I was sitting on the couch working when I heard a knock at the door. After getting up and peering through the peep hole, I saw that it was one of my downstairs' neighbors.

Now, if you're unfamiliar with the story of my downstairs' neighbors, here it is in a nutshell:

About a month ago, I offered to rearrange my schedule to sign for a UPS package that they were having problems receiving and became peeved when they didn't thank me for doing so. Rather than shrug it off like most people would've done, I proceeded to write not one, but five posts about the situation, posts in which I called them "bitches," said I hated them, and announced to the world that I was going to tear out a page from an Emily Post book on manners and tape it to their door.

Perhaps I over-reacted. Maybe just a little.

But anyway... back to last night: one of them was paying me a visit.

After slowly opening the door, I said, "Hello," and then nervously waited for a reply. It's not that my neighbor looked daunting by any means—in fact, she was still dressed in her work clothes and looked quite lovely—it's just that I knew I had written all sorts of bad stuff about her on the internet, and now here she was, at my door.

"Hi," she replied. She then hesitated for a moment before proceeding to say, "I didn't know you had a blog."

Yeah... awkward.

As you can imagine, my cheeks immediately flared up—I was at a complete loss for words. "Oh, um..." I eventually mustered up, "I didn't think you'd ever read it."

Yeah... that was my excuse. Seriously. I say random things when I get nervous—I can't help it. I also start laughing, which is what I did next.

"I'm so sorry," I gushed, putting my hands over my face. "I'm just so"—*giggle, giggle, giggle*—"sorry."

I sounded really sincere, I'm sure.

"No, please don't be sorry," she quickly said. "You were right. We're the one who should be sorry. We should've said something. There's really no excuse for our behavior." She then reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Here," she said, passing it over. "This is for you. We just wanted to apologize and say thank you."

Now, I gotta be honest... these girls hit a home run in trying to find a way to my heart: me likey the booze.

After thanking Kate (that's her name), I invited her inside where she proceeded to tell me how it so happened that she discovered my blog.

Now, Kate said she has a friend who's been telling her for a while now about a writer that she likes, a writer who happens to be me. (Hi, Kate's friend, if you're reading this!) "She lives in Brooklyn," her friend said, "and she's written two books and has a really funny blog—you need to check it out." So, Kate did.

After logging on to Pretty in the City, Kate saw my name and picture at the top and thought to herself, Hmmm... this girl looks familiar. "I think I know her," she said to her friend. She then realized how. "I think she lives in my building."

"Your building?" her friend replied. "She writes about her neighbors all the time!"

Not thinking that she was one of the neighbors, Kate found the posts, read them, and quickly realized she was.

Seeing as though she was really nice, I felt bad and apologized to her again, but she told me not to worry. She said she and her friends ended up getting a big laugh over everything, so no harm done. (She also said that she travels a lot for work and was crazy-busy during the whole UPS-thing, so that explains her flakiness!)

So anyway, that's the story!

To both of my neighbors... I'd like to publicly apologize for the things I said about you. You seem very nice and I look forward to getting to know both of you better.

To Kate's friend... Thanks for telling your friends about my books and blog!

Okay, off to write my thank-you note now!