We have lived in our house for five years now. Some of our neighbors we got to “know” right away. Some of the other neighbors took time to figure out. We got to know Edna* right away. Well, sort of, I guess we have never actually met her but she definitely makes herself known.
Edna lives down our street. When we first moved in, she would walk up and down the street muttering and yelling. She would sometimes have a cane and sometimes not. She once yelled at Bread while he was cutting our grass. I guess she didn’t like what he was doing to our lawn. He has absolutely no idea what she said to him since it was completely unintelligible. We thought she was disabled. We also thought she was about 75 years-old. We thought the older man she lives with was her brother and that he was taking care of her.
Boy, were we ever wrong! It turns out Edna is Drunk Edna and only 56 years-old! She lives with her 92 year-old boyfriend, Earl (I guess he likes em’ young and she doesn’t have many teeth if you know what I mean). Drunk Edna is what all the neighbors call her. She walks to the store first thing in the morning to get her Popov. I see her stumbling and muttering down the street. I give her great credit for not driving. God bless Jesus for that.
One of our neighbors has a son who is a year and a half older than Bird. When she was near her due date, she came home from work to wait it out on her couch. Apparently, while we were at work, Drunk Edna stumbled home from her daily liquor stop and passed out on our lawn, against a tree. Our poor neighbor, now two weeks past her due date and miserable in the July heat, went out to try and help her. After some muttering, she had to leave Edna to sleep it off.
Poor, Drunk Edna loves to feed the birds. She also randomly brings in our garbage cans. I’m not really sure what that is about since we’ve never even really spoken. I think she gets confused. She has also graduated to a walker with wheels and a basket! She doesn’t actually use it; she can walk perfectly fine aside from the swagger. I think it’s more of an accessory, someplace to store her goods. She pushes it really hard to it get it going, releases it and then catches up to it.
Another time, we were eating dinner when someone we did not know pulled into our driveway. Nosy folks that we are, we ran to the window to see Edna climbing out of the vehicle and stumbling down the street. The woman, who dropped her off, came back to our house a few hours later. I was gone but Bread was home. Apparently, the woman found Edna mumbling and stumbling on the other side of town, thought she was disabled and picked her up. She told Bread so was worried about her and came back to check on her well-being. It turns out Edna told the woman our house was her residence (this may explain why she brings our garbage cans in).
I feel bad for Drunk Edna, I do. I’m not making light of her apparent addiction but imagine my surprise, when a year after I’d been living in my house, I discovered I was completely wrong about who and what she was. Obviously, the woman has issues. She also has really bad taste in Vodka. Popov? Really? Yuck. Someone should tell her that she can get a really great deal at Costco.
*Some names have been changed to protect the local crazies.
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