In the spring, the old neighbor sold her dacha. Honestly, I was very happy that I would not see her here anymore.
I was tired of her. She was always giving me advice, she was curious to the point of frightening, and as cunning as a fox. I am a simple person, so I do not like such friends. And the most important thing is that I always knew that she was stealing from my plot, other neighbors were talking about it.
They say that on weekdays, when my husband and I are away, Grandma Ola walks around our garden as if it were her own home. I told her about it a few times, but in response she made big eyes and swore on all the saints that she had never taken a step towards our plot.
I had several options to expose my neighbor, for example pretending that we had gone out and then coming back and catching her red-handed when she was picking our tomatoes or strawberries. But my husband advised me against it – why mess with an old lady? And in a way he was right. Ola was very quarrelsome and gossipy. We were even surprised when she sold the plot. I can't say she was a model gardener, but I understand that her children would take her here in the summer to get a break from her.
Later we found out that Ola's son urgently needed money, so they started this sale. I was pleased with my new neighbors. They quickly tidied up the plot that Ola had neglected, planted fruit and vegetable seedlings, and sowed flowers. Tereska and I are about the same age, our husbands quickly found a common language, and our children became friends. In short, every weekend we would rush to the plot not only to weed, hoe and water everything in the beds, but also to talk to our new neighbors.
One evening, while we were sitting in the gazebo eating grilled sausages, my cell phone rang. It was Ola. Of course, I was very surprised, because I didn't want to hear her, but I answered it anyway out of politeness. And since my hands were a bit dirty from greasy food, I pressed the speakerphone.
-Oh, Madzia, good evening — I heard the disgusting voice of an old woman.
-Good evening – I replied, surprised.
-Madzia, I'll be brief, I just need to ask you something – she hurried up, realizing that I wasn't eager to burst into greetings.
-Do you know if your new neighbors changed the locks or not?
-I don't know – I replied and, widening my eyes, I looked towards our friends. They too looked at me in surprise, and my husband froze like a statue.
-Why do you ask? – I asked.
-You see, I have currants that should be ripe by now, not far from the fence, and I wanted to come and pick them. Why do I have to carry a bucket with me, I could go inside and get the right ones – the old woman replied, as if nothing had happened.
– Actually, that bucket isn't yours – I said, a little distracted by what I had heard. – You sold the plot, if you forgot.
– I remember everything perfectly – Ola replied with irritation – but I planted the currants myself. They're mine! And they won't be poorer by one bucket, their son sold them the plot too cheaply. And then the neighbor couldn't take it anymore, first he cursed, and then he said loudly, laughing:
– I didn't change the locks, but I'll fix it tomorrow! And you can forget about the currants, I cut them.
When Ola realized who was talking to her, she started crying, called her neighbor a faggot, and fainted. We spent the rest of the evening talking about how greedy people can be. Incidentally, the neighbors didn't touch the currant, it's still growing in the allotment.
Don't miss: From life. “In retirement I can dress however I like”: My mother exclaimed upon hearing my comments
Check out: Jolanta Kwaśniewska shares a personal story about her daughter. She doesn't hide her emotions