In Which I Get Awkward with the New Neighbours


There's something really nice about a fresh start. Sure, I was pretty awesome in Aylmer, what with all the friends and coffee dates and the "That was really weird what you did with the empty pad box" type comments from people who read my blog. But this quasi anonymity business in Kanata has its upside. I can go to the store and not run into anyone I know, as opposed to seeing at least 3 or 4 people every time I went out before. (Did I mention popularity already?)  I love talking to people, but sometimes I'm PMSing and I just want to get out without anyone seeing the calorie mountain in my shopping cart.

The downside? Meeting new neighbours is nerve-wracking when you're an awkward tool every time you get nervous. Remember the chicken thing? Well, that was at a store. When I insert my desperately-in-need-of-a-pedi foot in my mouth while standing in my driveway, that's a whole different rotisserie.

We lucked out again and got great neighbours on both sides. They love kids, dogs, and chaos. (Okay, I added the "chaos" part in. Oprah says you have to manifest what you want, and I'm manifesting the shit out of that.) Things went really well for the first week: Short, polite greetings and a few "getting to know you" type conversations in which I did not bring up my blog whatsoever for fear that they might actually go read it and question what I do with empty boxes.

But then, a couple of days ago when I was on my way to pick up the kids from school, I noticed my lefty neighbours (as in, the ones on the left) chatting in their driveway. I was all neighbourly and said, "hello". Then they said, "hello" and I should have kept walking down the street with my coffee.

But I didn't keep walking down the street with my coffee, because that would have been smart.

"I love what you've done to the place," I said, admiring the new construction on their home.

The houses in our neighbourhood aren't large, and some people have converted their garages into extra living space. The Lefties' home is no exception. They have a big, beautiful bay window where their garage door used to be. Below that window is a pile of gravel and construction debris. Not a huge amount, just enough that you can tell it's newly renovated.  The siding on the main floor is a different colour than the siding on the rest of the house, which I assume simply means they're slowly upgrading it.

I was met with blank stares and silence.

"The renos? You guys have been pretty busy!" I said, trying to fill the empty space where conversation is supposed to go.

The Lefties exchanged confused looks.

"The garage conversion?" I offered up helpfully.

"Oh!" they said in unison. "Yeah, it was like that when we got here."

"Oh..." I mirrored back.

"We thought you were referring to the mess in the front yard."

Uncomfortable chuckles ensue.


Oh. 

My.

God.

My neighbours think I was being a snarky bitch and insinuating they should clean up their yard.


"No! Oh, goodness, no. I just thought that it was, um... That you were in the middle of..." I believe I might have been stammering by that point.

Shit. Shit, Maven. Great. Now it sounds like I'm saying their construction debris looks nice. More unintentional backhanded insults from the new neighbours.

"I mean the conversion. Not the mess.. I mean, not that it's a mess, honestly. I didn't mean that."

Yep. Balls out stammering.

"It gives us a lot more living space," Mr. Lefty offered up helpfully.

I'm dying inside. You both hate me and I will never be invited to a makeup party at your place.

"I'm sure. We've already toyed with the idea and we've only been here a week."

I'm lying. I'm totally lying right now because I need to recover from this neighbourly nosedive of epic proportions.

"Well, have a great day!" I excused myself - quickly - and walked to the school with my proverbial tail between my non-proverbial legs.

And yesterday I hid inside all day so they didn't think I was out in the yard, silently judging them.

First impressions should come with a panic button. Can I get a fresh start from my fresh start?