I woke up Thursday morning, turned the air conditioner off, and heard 1010 WINS reciting traffic and weather. Maggie’s radio was at full volume. Over the next few days, we would uncover her latest attack, get a better picture of the love interest, and be no closer to discovering the answer to the question: Why does she hate you guys?

Things seemed to be going well next door. The laundry, for example, that Maggie hangs and leaves on the line for weeks seemed to be changing and seemed to be just clothes she wanted to be clean, rather that clothes that sent various messages and shielded her jacuzzi and car from the Ditmarston’s security camera.

And the boyfriend had been putting wood chips down on the terrible front lawn and then planting perennials. Hey, it’s September but why not plant some flowers? Maggie and her beau hung out in the front, smoking as he did yard things.

Our court case won’t start up until early October, so literally nothing was going on, yet there was 1010 WINS through the wall. She kept the radio on full blast until late morning, and then silence again. Thursday night I had a hard time sleeping. I kept waiting for the radio to start up, but it didn’t.

Maybe Maggie just had a little gas and blamed me? There was one post on Instagram about how her neighbors didn’t like it when she came out on the stoop before dawn and played music. That is true—we would not like that—but we had never clashed over that situation. Were other neighbors getting mad?

Friday morning I received a very strange email from the PTA nominating committee of Daisy’s high school. We, the interim PTA (meaning the people who served last school year and have been stuck in those positions because of the pandemic) are holding the election next week.

The chair of the committee said someone had nominated me for PTA president:

I see that apparently someone else presented your name as a nominee for PTA president and I feel is my obligation to confirm with you directly if you accept this nomination.If your answer is Yes. I want to also ask you if you want to keep this as a letter of intent or recommendation, or if you want to re-phrase it.
“Wendy doesn’t care what is right or wrong, she just wants to “win,” as she put it to me”

I felt as though I had discovered why, exactly, the coronavirus does not infect children as much as adults. Eureka! She had read some PTA emails (so many, many emails) and that had pissed her off and I had re-emerged in her mind as an enemy.

I wrote a spirited denial of the nomination, and attached our CPS unfounded cases letter, just to be dramatic.

The boyfriend comes into focus

Saturday, however, brought the most information. Daisy and I were in the living room Saturday morning. Maggie’s boyfriend was on her stoop, waiting for her. The girls on the other side of us came out of their house and boyfriend talked to them.

Daisy and I huddled at the floor under the windows to listen. We are shameless. Boyfriend has a terrible stutter! I had no idea. I thought he was a hard man, an over-muscled, hatchet-faced lady hitter. The hitting part I just made up out of thin air and my general distrust of men with overdeveloped chests.

Now I had to rejigger my opinion. A speech impediment is not a small deal and he suddenly seemed fragile. But the day of discovery was only beginning.

Daisy, Calvin and I went out to lunch for ramen. We sat at a table on the sidewalk and it was nice. We had gone to dinner last weekend, and vowed to never again do that. People are just drunk and hyped up, and the mask wearing is not done. It felt unsafe and horrible. Lunch is still okay.

Daisy and Calvin headed home and I went on to get a baguette and some fruit–we were having a friend for brunch the next day on the deck—and when I walked past the boyfriend, still waiting for Maggie on her stoop, he said hello to me.

I said hello back.

He apologized for saying hello, explaining that in my hat and mask I had looked like someone he knew across the street. Then we had a talk. He said there was no reason for us to not be friendly. I said okay. He said Maggie needed help. I said yes. Then I said that since he had been coming around, she was much calmer and we were grateful for that.

Then he told me about gardening and I couldn’t follow and we parted on friendly terms.

Obviously I need a new name for this guy. I’m thinking just Love Interest, and leaving it at that.

Once again, I am a star on Twitter

This morning, for the first time in over a month, I was featured on Maggie’s account, the esteemed PaulsSexKitten. I refer to this account in my mind as Paula’s Sex Kitten and Paula, in my imagination, is a lovely lady who lives in Wisconsin or Michigan and has a lot of hobbies, including breeding cats.

Today Maggie posted this video of me recounting all the stuff she had done to us as Calvin stalks around looking pissed. He is cleaning up glass in the carport when we came back from Vermont. Maggie was bubbling in the Love Tub (I think this is the best name so far) and I had just declared out of the blue that I had not screwed her husband.

The best part of this video is that I appear to be part of a bush, like a strange and special fruit grown only the alleys of Astoria. My words are lost because Maggie is literally recording from the hot tub, which is bubbling. I am just this very earnest bush person yammering on and on.