One never knows who lurks next door, does one? But good lord, one needs only to belong to a neighborhood social media group to experience by proxy the very worst in human behavior lurking right out there in the open.
Earlier today I sat down to pay the bills (and I swear on all that is true in this world, eleven hours later, I’ve done a million things today except pay the bills!). Because I’m easily distracted though mostly because I don’t enjoy paying the bills, I checked my email (but also, some of my bills arrive electronically, so checking my email wasn’t exactly a complete waste of time toward the bill paying endeavor). Anyway. . .
Scrolling through my junk email, deleting quickly as I clicked through 50-60 junk messages, I’m stopped by an email from the Nextdoor app with this subject header: Kid at door at 8:30 Sat. Morning. I mean, I knew it wasn’t my kid up and at ’em by 8:30 on a Saturday morning, but for some reason, I clicked. For the uninitiated, Nextdoor is a social media app used by residents to report on neighborhood goings-on, including critical news blasts such as this:
For reasons I don’t fully understand, I lost my darn mind over this post. The natural response to online garbage in 2019 is to fire back aggressively and IN ALL CAPS, which of course, I did not do myself on the app because that would expose me as this person’s equal. Instead, I took my crabby pants show on the road to Facebook, like a responsible adult does. Bah!! I know, I know. . .
How do people behave in such incredibly dim-witted ways? How does an adult post a photo of a child not of his/her own in a ranty, pissed-off, online what’s going on in the neighborhood app–the kid’s full face, you guys–and not give it even a moment’s pause? I thought it was probably a screen grab from a video doorbell, which, unlike my tech skills here, was quite high-resolution, quite clear.
I circled back at the Nextdoor post after a couple Facebook friends responded to my post, confirming my WTH-ness. I noted that the post had been edited.
You can see the tone had been ratcheted down a notch. I considered maybe replying with a somewhat, “Have you considered how much this child’s mother and father are going to flip their shit when they see this?” comment, but I chose not to, and do you know why I didn’t? I don’t want a person who thinks this is OK to know where I live. Fear. This is my neighbor??? Yikes.
Shortly thereafter, a sweet and wonderful neighbor whom I actually do know (not of the misanthropic variety) informed me that the Nextdoor post had been deleted.
I marinated in my crabby juices all morning over just how gross people can be. How insensitive, unkind, vengeful, and, and, and. . . I felt no end to the abyss of negative adjectives I could attach to such a creeptastic post. These are my neighbors, you guys, the “jury of my peers,” as it were, and it hurt a little bit to think that such rottenness lurks so close to home. Literally. After a while, I decided I had to be done with it. To assuage the icky aftertaste of meanness, I would do something good. No, not enjoy a margarita, silly friends, it was still morning! I’ve decided to do some trolling of my own, trolling for donations.
Rumor has it that by June 1, Wisconsinites can reasonably expect that snow will be melted and the daily average temperature be above zero. Mother Nature’s current pattern of behavior notwithstanding, June 1 weather is expected to be lovely. June 1 will mark our family’s fifth annual MDA Muscle Walk. It’s the one “MDA family” family reunion I’ve attended since my son’s diagnosis, and since Team Greater Than Gravity’s inception, you’ve helped me raise nearly $10,000 for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. You can click here to be directed to our team page. Join us for the walk in person or by plastic–I’ll take support however you’re willing to share it. For your preparation, I’m a total wreck the day of the walk, but I show up. I do my best for my kid, WHO, by the way, is getting better by the day since his close encounter with black ice. Navigating slowly, but better with appropriate medication, time, heating pads, and some kickass get well swag from Nikki, Dena, and Ann–how I love you all–has helped. Physical therapy begins next week. Fingers stay crossed!
And? If some cute little Cub Scout or Boy Scout visited your door this morning, tying a plastic bag onto your door latch? Fill it up, won’t you? You have an entire week until those same youngsters will be roving your neighborhood to retrieve the bags, hopefully filled with non-perishables next Saturday. Let’s show them we’re better than one bad apple.
And? No. I still haven’t paid the bills. *sigh*