Before I get into Mr. Wilson, I will give you a little information on my place of residence. I live in an affluent area just south of DC, lets call it "Alexandria". Ha, I really do live there. Anyways, I stumbled across this lovely little town home on craigslist. Two girls were looking for a third roommate, and there I was, ready-made awesomeness ready to move in. My roommates, Care and Suze, are pretty sweet (if you want better code names let me know). Suze works her ass off, but really she has the best job ever because they send her around Europe. Care loves wine and cheese (who doesn't?!) and we always enjoy some together while watching the most recent ridiculous reality TV show. Our neighborhood is quite nice and charming, and we have a wide variety of neighbors of all shapes, sizes, and colors. You know, artsy folk, young couples, a few kids...and then there is Mr. Wilson. He hates us.
So let me tell you about Mr. Wilson who lives across the street. We've always called him that, but who knows what kind of wretched name he really has. He always sits on his front porch with his dog, a drooling mess of a Golden Retriever. I don't think he works, but makes it his job to sit on his front porch all day and night with his dog, keeping watch on our 'hood. I've seen him go inside his house maybe once since I moved in, which was 6 months ago. One evening Care and I saw him with a pillow and blanket, bundled up on his porch with his dog. I swear he slept on that porch that night.
Anyways, Mr. Wilson and I got off to a bad start the day I moved in. I had used a POD to move my things, and was going to leave it in my parking space for a week so I could have time to unload everything. Mr. Wilson was perched on his porch the morning the POD and I showed up. I smiled and said "Hi!" and he promptly informed me "You know you can't keep that thing here in this neighborhood." Thanks for the warm welcome, Wilson.
Not wanting to piss my new neighbor and my community off, I asked the POD driver if I could just unload everything real quick and then he could just take the POD back right away. He seemed really annoyed, because that meant he would have to help me move everything, but grudgingly agreed. I ran to my car to get the key to unload the industrial sized lock on the POD. Classic move, I had locked my keys in my car. So basically I'm stuck with a pissed off Wilson, a pissed off POD driver, and a big POD container which could not be opened sitting in front of my townhouse. What a dream.
Long story shortened a bit; the POD driver was apparently skilled at breaking into cars. We busted in to my car, retrieved my keys, and managed to move out a bedroom and a half of belongings within an hour. All under the watchful eye of Mr. Wilson.
