So, this morning I was in the laundry room when one of my neighbors walked in while I was getting my clothes out of the dryer. She’s a very nice woman, one of the few approachable folks in the building. I think I’ve mentioned before that we live in a rather unfriendly complex – no one knows each other’s names and there is zero sense of community. Because of this, my husband and I have given our neighbors names based on personality traits and whatnot. You guys remember the Poop Baggers (to be fair, they finally stopped leaving bags of dog poop outside their door months ago, but the name will probably always stick), and then there are The Couple with the Kid, The Crazy Bald Guy, The Bulldog Couple (no, that’s not mean, they have a bulldog), etc. It just so happens I know the name of the particular neighbor that came into the laundry room this morning, because last year UPS mistakenly delivered her package to our door. But prior to that we called her The Soap Lady, since she makes fancy soaps and sells them at nearby farmers markets. However, my husband can never remember her name, so he continues to call her soap lady.
Anyway, she and I exchanged hellos and whatnot, and then she asked me if I work. I told her I work from home, blah blah, and she told me she was a freelance writer for 20 years. And then she said, “I didn’t become The Soap Lady until I retired.”
That line, by the way, was delivered with crossed arms, a smirk, and raised eyebrows. Ahem. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that, at some point, she overheard one of us call her the soap lady.
Well, don’t I feel like a bit of an ass.
On an un-ass-y related note, I saw this over the weekend. Usually my shout outs are to real life or blogger friends. I have no idea who these guys are, but I really hope they find the funding to make this movie.