“Why is there a baby-gate on our deck?”
This is not the type of question you expect to field from your wife on an early Sunday evening while guiltily watching a terrible movie about urban students who learn the true import of their lives through the power of dance courtesy of Antonio Banderas.
I struggled for a moment with the question, rolling the words around in my head, “Baby gate. A gate for babies. On our porch. OUR porch. Why is it there? Why would we need to cage babies on our porch? I don’t remember any recent baby attacks.” A fair amount of wine had been consumed before these- to put it fairly- completely insane thoughts started bouncing around in my brain.
“Oh,” I said, struck suddenly with the memory, “The next door neighbor gave it to us. He said he thought we might know someone with a puppy who might want a baby gate,” and, head swimming with a sauvignon buzz, I understood a little bit better about what it must be like to be my neighbor.
He had showed up the day before with a handful of varying sizes of clips of nails for what looked like a construction-grade nail-gun. These were nails that could puncture two-by-fours and hold houses together with ease, or, in a pinch, destroy the queen spider of a deadly horde of venomous spiders that have been living under your house.
I’m not sure why, but the neighbor has been cleaning out his shed all summer, and he always checks with me before he throws any of it away. Among items offered, some of which have been accepted are: a four foot by five foot piece of sheetrock; an ancient record collection consisting mostly of musicians and performers from the Lawrence Welk show; a tacky plastic Valentine’s Day vase that he thought, “The little lady” might enjoy; six or seven two by fours of various length; a three by four piece of plywood; an old chair with no back; a mismatched set of rusting golf clubs; and the nails and baby gate which are now in my possession.
I figured the baby gate could be given away as easily by me as it was by him, and the nails can just be added to the coffee cans full of screws, and nails, and nuts, and bolts in my shed. He also sold us an old table, and as part of the offer threw in an extra finished tabletop with no legs. The price was right, and I was able to put it to use immediately, but I thought it was amusing that he felt bad enough about selling me the table that he felt he needed to throw a half-table into the deal.
I take anything he offers that I can use and usually refuse the rest; a dangerous gambit by me either way. With each acceptance I feed the OCD beast inside me that refuses to let me throw away anything that can be put to good use. “A baby gate? Why, that can be used to keep the cats at bay! Old nails? You never know when you’ll inherit a contractor-grade nail-gun!” It is for these reasons that I’m not allowed to look in the “Free” section of the Pennysaver. I’d be crushed by the weight of my own good intentions. Luckily my wife steps in frequently and takes a note of what we have and what we need to rid ourselves of, and I thank her for that. But, refusing these items is equally as dangerous, because then he might stop offering them to me.
As he works his way to the back of his shed, he gets closer and closer to what I actually hope he’ll one day offer me: an old bar mirror. When I helped him move the table out of his shed and into my shed (which was about as ludicrous a thing to do as I could imagine) I noticed the mirror hanging on the back wall. All but the top of it was obscured by old cases of motor oil, cardboard boxes, and other miscellaneous detritus that had found its way into this catch-all storage area of his. I can’t even say what brand of beer it is at this point, but it has got the tell-tale signs of a beer mirror, with a scarlet band running across the top of the mirror and cutting a 90 degree angle at the one visible corner. I’m not sure he’ll make it that far this summer, but if he does, I’ll be happy to take it off his hands.
In the meantime I’ll continue taking his baby-gates and his nails to let him know that, “Yes, I can be relied on to use these things that you are giving to me, or at least throw them away for you when you aren’t looking.”
By the way, does anyone need a white vase with little red hearts that run in a circle around the bottom? I can guarantee that a special little lady would probably love to get it on Valentine’s Day.
Ah, I too caught that powerful movie. Except it was ~11am in a Baltimore hotel room.
I found the scene when the Banderas grabbed Alfree(?) particularly titillating.
I could only follow the story line through dance as my son thought his constant singing of “Bob the Builder, yes we CAN!” and “Dora Dora…D-d-d-Dora!” would be a better soundtrack than the original.
Sadly, I did not see the whole thing as we were checking out.
You’re lucky to have such a generous neighbor. The only thing we get from one of our neighbors is the joy of smelling urine and dog poop intensify in the summer heat from their “natural” back yard.
Take the Lead is an awesome movie. It has lots of Antonio Banderas. And Antonio is HOTT. Actually, except for the eye candy it’s a totally lame move.
i have this affliction, too. u should see my basement. i have a lifetime’s supply of nails and screws inherited from the previous owner of the house, who likewise couldn’t throw anything potentially useful away, but luckily for me was moving to a smaller place.
hey, weren’t u just telling me i needed a baby gate for gizmo, to keep the devil cat away? but u might need to cage babies on ur porch if there are zombie babies. sorry, just watched shaun of the dead.
sorry, didn’t mean to be anonymous. oops.
Boy, do I have a lot of crap to unload on you and Danielle…
You suggest that danielle get a baby gate only to have own mysteriously show up on your porch? Oh, your neighbor gave it to you? Riiiiight. Does this have anything to do with why you’re banned from Babies R’ Us?
I feel your pain you poor bastard. If only my wife was as adept at cock-blocking philanthropic neighbors as yours is.
Last summer my neighbor cleaned out his shed. Turns out he was hiding bodies in there.
Ya know….if you actually helped him clear out the shed, you might get that beer mirror sooner. Just a thought.
Nice arachnophobia reference.
I think Mokie was looking for a babygate.
I have so much crap in my garage including the majority of a ‘67 chevy nova - I keep threatening to give it away along with the guy who owns it.
Desk Job beat me to the Arachnophobia comment. I watched that movie once. I tried to watch it again and could’t stomach it. I don’t know how I made it through the first time.
Our neighbors clean out their garage on a regular basis (they’ve been trying to sell their shitty house since we moved in). Shit comes out of that garage like it’s a garage-sized clown car. Pool tables, mattresses, sets of weights, more pool tables, half cars… nothing good.
PS - Children’s books for you:
http://www.somethingawful.com/d/comedy-goldmine/choose-...
I wish your neighbor would clean out some of the rooms in my mom’s house. I’m thinking she may have 5 or 6 bar mirrors back in some of those rooms.
I don’t know why, but this post reminded me of the time I saw my mailman (not my current mailman) sniffing packages of Pampers in a far corner of the Port Covington WalMart. I guess because it was next to a large display of discounted baby gates (which were probably on a recall list, hence the “deep discount”). But anyway, yeah — there he was in his USPS uniform, sniffing away.
As the mother of an infant, I complained at the post office and he left on an “early retirement” because of a “back injury”. Hm. Must be hard work…being pervy at the freakin WalMart.
And just so you know, these weren’t little delicate sniffs….no, it was like that scene in Scarface where what’s-his-name sticks his face in a big bowl of blow.
THAT kind of sniff.
Our neighbors are moving and every weekend they have a junk sale. It’s all the same junk going in their garage and then coming back out. I’ve never seen anyone over there looking at it, besides me.
First of all, no one wants your junk and second of all, no one wants your junk when it’s 117 degrees.
As an aside, I have a feeling that when these people finally move, they are going to leave their cat behind and then what am I going to do?
delurking to point out the obvious! he’s bribing/desensitizing you for when he rolls out those really stinky 50 gallon drums in the middle of the night … the ones with arms sticking out …
Hmmm…my grandpa used to bring home stuff from the dump like that for free.
Your negotiation skills need honing, I think…but I can appreciate the goal of the bar mirror. I hope you get it after all you’ve been through.
hi nice post, i enjoyed it