It was a typical summer evening when my neighbor, Linda, asked if she could use my BBQ. I didn’t think much of it. We were friendly, and I was happy to let her borrow it for a cookout. But when I came home the next day, things had taken a very unexpected turn.
I stepped inside my house after a long day of work, only to find a note stuck to my front door. It was in bold handwriting, and the tone was nothing short of demanding:
**“RULES FOR PROPERTY USE:
- No unauthorized use of property or appliances.
- BBQ use is prohibited unless it is cleaned thoroughly after every use.
- Any damage must be reported immediately.”**
I stood there, stunned. Linda had used my BBQ, and now, she had not only refused to clean up after herself, but she was telling me how to manage my property. I felt a rush of anger rising up within me.
I had never asked her for anything in return. In fact, I had lent her a few tools, helped her with yard work, and even offered advice on how to take care of her garden. And this was how she repaid me?
I marched over to her house, fuming. She answered the door with a smile, clearly unaware of the storm that was about to hit.
“Linda,” I began, my voice tight with frustration, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you have no right to post rules on my door like that.”
Her smile faltered, and she blinked, looking confused. “I was just trying to keep things in order,” she explained, her voice a little too calm for my liking.
“No, you weren’t,” I shot back. “You used my BBQ and left it filthy, and now you’re telling me how to run my house?”
Linda’s expression hardened, and for a moment, she seemed almost… smug. “Well, I noticed some grease stains on your patio from the BBQ last night,” she said casually. “And I didn’t want things to get out of hand, you know?”
I couldn’t believe it. Here I was, offering her a favor, and she was treating me like I was the one in the wrong.
“I don’t need rules from you, Linda. If you borrow something, you clean up after yourself. Simple as that,” I said, stepping back.
She crossed her arms and huffed, “Fine, if that’s the way you want it. But I don’t think I’ll be using your BBQ again.”
I walked away, trying to keep my composure. As I entered my house, I noticed the grease stains on the patio she had mentioned. The anger I felt was now mixed with disbelief. How had she taken a simple request for courtesy and turned it into a full-blown confrontation?
The next day, I put up my own sign. It simply read, “If you’re going to post rules, make sure you follow them first.” I stuck it right where she would see it—the front of her door.
And for the first time in years, I felt a little more in control of my own space.
