[repetitive material, sorry] The day began dismally. Calvin woke me up as he does every morning, to exercise. And thus I power walked again through the maskless hordes, only to return home to find the internet DOWN. I get back last because the kids and Calvin run and I powerwalk but the moment I walked in the house I smelled the dysfunction.

Calvin had an 8-hour production meeting so he made his phone a hot spot and had the meeting. Daisy freaked out about not being able to turn in her work to her internship boss and Wyatt just played Doom offline, which was a real blow to his day. I dragged myself upstairs and showered and tried to get the day going.

I went down to my basement office and tried to do things.

Then we went on alert, again. Wyatt said a person was here. Calvin texted me to come upstairs. Daisy ran up and down the stairs. Someone was here and we hadn’t expected them. This means, you guessed it, Maggie has been making some calls.

A thin woman carrying a two big bags introduced herself as Virginia from Adult Protective Services. She said she wanted to hear my side of the story.

I tried to sit in the living room but I couldn’t deal. First of all, I was wearing a fragrant, unwashed mask of Daisy’s, so first I had to fund a less smelly mask. Then I couldn’t focus because Calvin was droning on and on telling the art department they needed to build a fence. Blah blah blah. He was using his work voice, which is both loud and commanding.

So I took her out on the deck, where she took a lot of photos of Maggie’s mosquito tub. I offered water and brought us both two glasses. She said, “Don’t you have water bottles?”

I didn’t. I mean, we have some in cabinet in the basement, in case we lose water, but the basement, as I believe I’ve mentioned, is a shit show. Was this a hygiene thing, a pandemic thing I hadn’t understood? I don’t usually offer the cops a drink but I do offer the social workers one and come to think of it, they always have their own bottle of water.

I always mean to be polite and clearly I am not keeping up with the water bottle strictures.

Then she began asking me questions: Did I hit Maggie with a bat? Why do I bully Maggie so much? Was I very good friends with her ex husband? (at this point in the conversation I said very loudly and very quickly, “I did not have sex with her husband. I did not have sex with her husband. I did not have sex with her husband.” I repeated it maniacally until she waved me down.

It’s such a gross accusation. First that Maggie’s husband cheated on her–I don’t want to hear about any of that. Infidelity is no one’s business and I hate knowing about it. I once had a boss who had some sort of affair with the client, and the whole team was forced to watch it. I found it a hard thing to incorporate into my work day.

Just the idea that I screwed my neighbor’s husband—it sends me into a frenzy. I could barely make small talk with that guy. He once came to a party at our house and brought us two beers (like the last two beers of a six pack), he filled up a paper plate of chicken—basically all the chicken that was out—and left the party. How does that make a man sexually attractive? I still want that chicken back.

But let’s move on from him.

“But you and your husband are very good friends with him. You are very close to him.” Virginia from Adult Protective Services was very hung up on this relationship with the husband.

I said, no, not at all. In fact, I added, I would sue him too if I could think of a good enough reason. He left me a fucking timebomb next door.

She tried a different tack. “You are millionaires, right?”

“No,” I said, and then detailed the damages Maggie had done to our house.

“She is obsessed with you,” Virginia said. “I have seen this before. She says everything is your fault.”