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Whose idea was it to pair my happy-go-lucky neighbor with me? Someone is going to regret that decision.
A hand waves in front of my face, and I jump back. The sander going forward. It’s a quick release so as soon as my hand leaves the handle, it turns off. That doesn’t keep it from almost hitting my neighbor. She turns out of the way before it would have hit her.
“What in the hell are you doing?” She holds her hands to her chest. “I could have died.”
“Not likely. Have a hellacious bruise…maybe.” The reddening of her cheeks and glare in my direction is all the proof I need to know I should have kept my mouth shut. “What are you doing here anyway?”
She huffs and straightens her shirt. “I was coming over to see if you could keep the noise down. I can’t hear my TV over the constant buzzing sound.”
How the hell did she hear it? I mean I know we’re neighbors, but our houses aren’t that close together. Plus, I’m in my garage. “You didn’t think to knock, or make some sort of noise? One of us could have gotten seriously hurt.”
I can practically see the steam rising from her. “You don’t think I did that? I knocked on the wall. I yelled your name like five times.” She points to the opening of my garage. “When that didn’t work, I did the only other thing I thought might. Hence me waving my hand in front of your face since nothing else was getting your attention.”
Oh. I kind of feel like an ass now that she explains what happens. “Sorry.”
“For being loud? Or, almost taking me out with a power tool?” Samantha crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot. If I wasn’t scared she might attack me, I’d tell her the pose is adorable. But I value my life.
“Both?” I’m not sure how to answer that. Honestly, I didn’t think I was being that loud.
“You don’t sound too sure about that.” Her stance has relaxed so I feel a bit better about proceeding.
“No, I am sorry for both. I was trying to get this piece finished for the park, but the wood messed up and I had to start over again. It’s due to be unveiled this weekend, so now I’m in a time crunch.”
She doesn’t look impressed with my explanation, but doesn’t really say anything either.
“I have shoots for the rest of the week. I’ll try to work on the project during the day while at work.” I pause for a second, “but if I have to work on it in the evening, what’s the latest time that’s good for you?”
Yes, I’m giving in. But we live in a community and I don’t want to be the one who causes problems. I’m the newest person to move in and rocking the boat isn’t what I want to do.
Samantha taps her finger against her chin, thinking about it far harder than it needs to be. “Is eight too early?”
In all honesty, it’s not, but I’ve seen when she turns off the lights in her house. She’s a night owl like me. It’s surprising she’s the only one on our block complaining about the noise. Nobody else has said a word to me.
“Not at all.” I’m about to press my luck and I don’t care. “Are there any nights I can work late?”
She rolls her eyes, annoyed with the question. “Sure, I actually have girls night tomorrow and don’t get home until late. Knock yourself out.”
She turns and walks out of my garage without another word. That is probably the strangest interaction I’ve had with her. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she had a rough day and needed the quiet time tonight. It’s odd because she’s never come over here before and this isn’t the first time I’ve worked on a project late at night. Though, it’s barely nine, so it’s not really that late.
Cleaning up looks to be the only thing I can do for the rest of the night. Maybe I should call it an early night and go to bed. My shoot tomorrow is likely to be long and exhausting.
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