Gina’s latest tirade:
Gina is currently upset because she doesn’t see why all the other houses on her street have 1/2 acre lots and she doesn’t. I point out it is because she lives on the corner.
She looks at me. As if to say “die, right now, before my eyes.”
She knows it’s on the corner but doesn’t know why someone thought it would be a good idea to build behind her house ( even though it’s on an entirely different street.)
Which leads her to the fact that she now knows the specific amount of land of every sad person on our block. She now refers to me as .93 acres.
Then proceeds to ask me why T-bone and I have not filled out some sort of tax form for an exemption. So now she is calling me a number and she calls me wealthy because of some forgotten tax form.
I can’t handle all of that mess, so I call up T-bone at work and make sure he fills out this form so Gina can stop calling us names.
T-bone now fills out the form to get me off his back so Gina can get off mine.
And that cools off Gina for a while about acreage her home sits on. Which by the way, the square footage of her house is more than mine but I don’t think about that til later on. And I don’t want to bring it up, because it would only remind her about the acreage thing all over again.
In Italy, you don’t want to be accused of being wealthy or well mannered. You don’t want to be an outcast. Living in a small town, you are already kind of outcast from the major metropolitan population. You don’t want to be one in your own small town.
That’s my town by the way, Italy. I was raised here and now raising my family here. This is a place where your neighbors will bring your kid back when they run away from home. I have had 4 different neighbors bring back my youngest toddler when I thought he was in his bed taking a nap.
It takes a village.