April 8, 2012

I like conspiracy theories, except when they involve me. There is an on-off conspiracy in my building regarding my mailbox. Sometimes there’s garbage in it. The problem is that I don’t know who is using my mailbox as a garbage can. I don’t know if it’s the same person/group of people using my mailbox as a garbage can. But every so often, it’s used as a garbage can.

Yesterday, there were some wrappers for Kinder Schokolade in my mailbox.

I kind of think it’s a conspiracy.

Either that, or my neighbours just hate me. (Though, frankly, I have no idea why, considering I try my best to be quiet and friendly.)

When my mailbox is used as a garbage can, it makes me remarkably sad. For some reason, I have no problem if Krauts yell at me or approach me directly. It gives me the chance to yell back, call them twats, and start swearing at them in English, mostly with excessive use of the word “fuck”, and all variations/suffixes that can be included. The passive-aggressiveness, though, makes me really sad.
So, in order to not be sad (but get angry, and thus feel like I’m doing something), I am going to be passive-aggressive myself, and bitch about my neighbours on the interwebbies, rather than do something productive about the mailbox issue.

• My neighbours have taken to banging against the floor when I vacuum. I guess they’re really pissed about the fact I like to keep a clean shop. Too bad, fucktards, I vacuum in the outside-of-Ruhezeit hours. I will not stop this because it makes you uncomfortable. Maybe you should stop blaring your TV at midnight. That, my friends, is a real issue.
• One neighbour once came up to me, upset that I did not always say hello to the neighbours in the stairwell. Apparently they had all been bitching about me behind my back. Oddly enough — with the exception of one family — whenever I say hello now, I get a blank, German-style stare. Fuck, seriously, what do you want from me? First you don’t want me to be so German and unfriendly, and now you are acting like cold Germans to me? Make up your freeking minds.
• I’m sorry, I can’t just take my dog to university with me every day, like you take your dogs with you when you go anywhere. I don’t have a car I can leave him in during the day, and I don’t have a dog-sitter that can take care of him while I’m gone. He’s fine, trust me. Lots of dogs are left alone a lot longer every day than I leave Maxie, and they’re fine. Just like Maxie is fine. You bitch if I leave him alone in my flat, but you bitch if I have someone take care of him. Just worry about your own life, please.
• My mailbox is not a fucking garbage can! It is not the place to put sweets wrappers, and it is not the place to stuff all your extra flyers. Stop that. Seriously.
• If you walk up to my dog, stand about 10cm away from him and just stare at him, he’ll probably bark at you. He doesn’t like strangers approaching him, and he doesn’t like being stood over and stared at. To be honest, I’ve yet to meet a dog that does enjoy this. Do not do this, and then complain that my dog is frech. You’re frech for not knowing how to interact with a dog when you apparently have oodles of your own.
• I leave you in peace. I let you blare your music in the middle of the night without interruption, I let you do repairs/drilling on a Sunday morning at 6:30 without complaint, and I say nothing about the fact your food stinks up the entire building. Why do I let resting dogs lie, you ask? Because it’s how life goes when you live in a building with other people. If you can’t handle my Ausländer-habits because I haven’t lived, like everyone else, in this building for 243 years, move to a single-family home. I am a hell of a lot quieter and less intrusive than you, so bugger off. Seriously.