By Jefferson M. Lassiter
CRAZY TOWN
I have never written an article in my life before, but after reading the
Tybee Beachcomber and seeing the laid-back writing style with laughter,
I couldn’t resist. After what happened to me this weekend, I had to share
and hope I can do it justice.
I live on Wilmington Island in an apartment complex with six apartments.
There is one apartment that has been empty for a bit, but as tenants,
we don’t mind and we all hang out and enjoy each other’s company. We
share all the holidays together, visiting family, tears, fears, laughter and
good times. So, when our landlord (who is super cool) told ‘the hood’
that he had rented out the empty unit, we were all hesitantly optimistic.
Our landlord is also super trusting. We have ridden this coaster ride with
him before and it can go either way. Usually upside down, but we are
optimistic people and our hopes were high.
Friday was the big day and we were all doing our own thing. None of us
thought anything about it. My mind was busy and I was super tired after
a long day and excited about crawling into bed ready for a good night’s
rest. Nope. Our new neighbors (two lesbians – no one cares) decided to
do laundry. They started at 6pm and finished the last load at 4:30am.
WTFF??? NO! I wouldn’t normally care except my bed is separated by a
very thin wall from the washing machine. I can hear people breathe in
the laundry room. About midnight, I completely lost my cool and started
screaming (albeit naked in bed at the ceiling) at my new neighbor,
“What in the name of sweet baby Jesus are you doing? Stop doing your
laundry you ahole!!” I knew she could hear me because, as I previously
notated, I can hear people breathe through that wall.
No acknowledgment at all from her end, but I heard her saying ‘Ohm’
over and over like a ‘Woosaw’ meditation chant, trying to block the
sound of my hysteria (oh, if it could only be that easy). Thank God for
the invention of the ear bud and the IPOD. Short of putting on my clothes
and stomping outside with my baseball bat, I was stuck. Not to mention,
I do try to be an adult and act accordingly. I usually fail, but I do try.
After the last load at 4:30am, I drifted off into a fitful sleep, full of angry
dreams and aggressive behavior. When I woke up and got my big boy
britches on, I stepped outside to head out to work, when I saw my new
neighbor holding a post-hole digger and digging what I was assuming
was her grave in which I was going to shove her body into. Nope, she
was digging a drainage ditch to assist in the water flow. She had now
lived here for a solid 12 hours and had taken it upon herself to dig
a ditch. No grave. Dammit!! I refused to look at her, knowing that if I
initiated eye contact, all efforts at adult conversation were going to go
the way of the Dodo when I started screaming lack of sleep induced
obscenities. I hated her. I left and texted my landlord that I was in hell.
18 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | MARCH 2018
Upon my return several hours later, I met up with the ‘hood.’ We were
all irritated, all for different reasons, but all created by the same people.
Grrr. I crawled into bed that night with a sigh of relief, knowing that
no laundry would be done tonight because honestly, how many clothes
can two people have, and after over 10 hours of laundering, shouldn’t
you have washed every flannel, comforter, wash rag, towel, shirt, short,
etc., one could possibly own? Not to be, friends. 2:12am and I heard the
squeak of the laundry room door opening. WTF? Why? Why? I heard
the dryer start and I was so exhausted I just couldn’t even summon the
energy to scream through the wall. That in itself is truly a sad state of
affairs.
I staggered out of bed later in the morning and prepped my own laundry,
wondering what kind of shit show I would be walking into in the laundry
room. I mean, after a solid day of laundering, anything could be going on
in that 4x6 cell of a laundry room.
I walked in and sighed in relief. Looked somewhat normal. I opened the
washer detergent compartment and found detergent caked in the ‘fabric
softener’ section, which was clearly marked. Anyway, that’s beside the
point. I didn’t care. I just wanted the damn thing to work and I wanted
to beat feet before that crazy bitch came for me. I was loading up my
scene when my neighbor poked his head in the door and said, “Did
you take my laundry?” Oh, God. I started laughing because: a.) I was
exhausted, b.) I knew what was coming, and c.) it beat the hell outta
crying. “Hell no,” I said, because I’ve seen his laundry and no thanks.
Apparently, Crazy Town entered the laundry room at 2:12am, rewashed
my neighbor’s laundry and then stole it. I laughed harder. I was bent
over, laughing so hard tears were spurting out of my eyes and I was
clutching my sides. Then my neighbor said to me with a complete and
total straight face, “And they used my Bounce sheets!” I almost shit my
pants I was hysterical laughing!! My neighbor slammed the door in my
face and stomped off. I continued to hyena laugh until I could regain
control of myself. It took a while.
God!! I feel better having vented that story! It’s all true and I’m both
petrified and very much looking forward to what ‘Crazy Town’ has in
store for tomorrow. It’s only been 24 hours at this point.
The moral of this story is JUST SAY NO TO CRAIGS LIST!! And to drugs,
of course.
Diving Into the Shallow
End of the Dating Pool
A Series of Hope, Despair & Laughter - Part 4
By Welsley Turner Franco
Y’all have been with me through some trials and tribs. You know more
about my dating life, or lack thereof, than my family. You’ve seen me
through on-line dating, friends setting me up for a freefall, Facebook,