Tonight I hatched a most evil plan.
For you see, I have a rather obnoxious neighbor who needs to be taught a lesson. Sure she resembles Margaret Cho, but does she have to act as if she has her career trajectory and all the diva trappings to go along with it? Mercy, no.
Less you think me harsh, here is her rap sheet:
1. She creates laundry room gridlock by leaving her damp linens in the washer for hours. While I am perfectly willing to relocate abandoned dryer contents left by my fellow tenants, moving others' wet wash leaves me cold.
2. She overloads trash cans. Our apartment building has a generous can-to-tenant ratio, so there is no need to overload one can when empties stand nearby. I have no need to see her plethora of greasy take-out boxes perching precariously out of the can's lid like an open invitation to ants and maggots to foment riots.
3. She is a litterbug. I have always detested litterbugs. In fact, I have a fantasy that one day all the litter each person has ever carelessly tossed to the wind will suddenly seek them out and attach en masse to their body, so that they walk around like a refuse-cloaked zombie.
Rap number three on her sheet is the offense that gave the inspiration for my passive-aggressive plan of attack. You may be familiar with the annoying advertising technique of door knob flyers. About once a week, I come home to find the neighborhood has been papered with Thai takeout or pizza delivery flyers. Faux Cho likes to toss her doorknob flyer on the ground as she enters her abode.
For the life of me, I can't figure out how this tactic strikes her as reasonable. Does she suspect someone who is hankering for some Prik King will trip over her discarded flyer and be happy to find the answer to their hunger at their feet? Does she think the wind will carry it away to flyer heaven?
So, tonight, as I came home, I saw a Chinese restaurant menu flyer twisted on the dusty doorstep of her flat. My first thought was to leave it. At some point, she must realize how trashy her entryway looks and clean up her act, no? Trekker please. My second thought was just to throw it away for her, as I always have in the past.
Then Amelie inspiration hit! I decided I would stick that flyer and all future tossed away take-out sheets under her doormat. Sure, she probably will never know of my scandalous scheme until she moves out in a couple years and finds fifty menus under her scratchy coir mat, but I'm gonna grin every time I slip a new throwaway down under.
Evil c'est moi.