I live in Antioch. If you live in Middle Tennessee you read this instead: I live in the ghetto.
Which is so untrue. Ghettos don’t have putt-putt.
(totally thought this place was Disney World when I was 5)
We live in an apartment in Antioch which I really like. I also know lots of people wouldn’t like our apartment because “brown* people are scary”. And I get that it isn’t racism as much as it’s just the natural uncomfortableness of being around people that don’t look like you. Seriously, I’m not judging you. Promise.
Anyways, most of our apartment complex consists of brown people. I consider myself a brown person. So I’m cool with it. However, the actual building we live in seems to house the only white people around: Mark, our downstairs old lady neighbor and our across the hall young couple neighbor. My first thought is that they wanted to keep all the white people together so they’d feel comfortable. Whatever.
The downstairs old lady neighbor is… interesting. She’s been here since, like, 1987 and she does her own landscaping around her deck/patio. She says she sold her house in Brentwood and moved here because she didn’t want a condo. Which is BS. You don’t have money to live in Brentwood and then move to Antioch. Also, she always has lipstick on her teeth. All signs of The Crazy.
The across the hall young couple is quiet. They don’t talk to us (probably because I’m brown) and have 2 dogs. One is very large, the other very small.
We’ve talked to the old lady quite a bit because water bills around here are cah-razy and there is nothing like complaining about life with someone in their seventies. Not only does she complain about life, but she complains about our neighbors across the hall. She claims that they let their dogs pee way too close to the building and that dog pee is toxic and will probably kill us all. I’m a great smile and nodder so I just let her complain and figure it’s all pretty innocent.
One night I come home after Bible study. I have Otis and Mark still wasn’t home from practice. I get in the house and I guess Omi (just want to note that this is probably the first mention of a cat on this blog since Otis’ arrival… so sad) snuck out while I was coming in and I didn’t realize it until I heard something that sounded like a large body get thrown against the front door and a cat screaming for mercy.
I’m not sure why I did this considering I was home alone and in the “ghetto”, but I opened the front door. And there’s the big dog from across the hall and the girl from the couple we’ve never met.
Girl: I’m sorry! The dog was chasing after some cat.
Me: Oh, that cat is probably ours.
Girl: No, it was one of those stray cats that the lady downstairs feeds.
Me: Was it a black cat? We have a black cat. I think she got out just a second ago.
Girl: No, no, no. It wasn’t your cat. It’s a stray cat.
Me: I own a cat. And I’m pretty sure that was her.
Girl: Oh, I’m so sorry!
You might be thinking, “Day-um, Marie. Why are you talking to her like she is high?” Because I’m pretty sure she was high. And I’m also pretty sure that I started to understand why the old lady downstairs wasn’t their biggest fan…
Me: No problem. Did you see where she went?
Girl: Yeah, she went down the stairs. I just thought it was the old lady’s cat. She keeps all those strays around and it’s disgusting. I’m sure she’s already told you, but that old lady hates us.
Me: Yeah, I’ve heard that you guys have some issues…
Girl: Yeah, we’re going to court tomorrow.
Me: Court? Why? For dog pee?
Girl: Because I was walking the dogs and she threw a pan at me. That’s assault.
At this point we’ve been talking for 5 minutes, my cat is on the loose and I can hear Otis starting to cry. I needed to wrap this conversation up with a quickness, but I was too intrigued.
Me: She threw a pan at you?!?
Girl: Yes. She’s nuts. This is our second time in court. I’m a nurse. I think she needs meds.
Me: Maybe you could give her some of whatever you’re on.
Ok, I didn’t really say that. But I thought it.
We wrapped up the conversation so that I could get my baby and a flashlight and go look for my Scaredy Cat in the bushes around our apartment.
Let me just do a small recap for you:
- Old white lady with lipstick on her teeth and delusions of living in Brentwood.
- Young white lady that talks like she’s high.
- Old lady throwing kitchen items at young lady while walking dog.
- Young brownish lady standing in bushes with flashlight and baby carrier calling out “Omi, come home! Omi, come home right now!”
*by brown people I mean anyone who isn’t white. And I’m not trying to racist, but let’s be real. It’s called White Flight for a reason.