Every morning began the same way – with me staring out my kitchen window at the silver hatchback blocking my garage. For six months, Owen Saunders had made it his personal mission to ruin my commute. Every day, the same routine: me knocking on his door, him groggily apologizing, and me being late for work.
I’d tried being nice. I’d tried being firm. Nothing worked. So I decided to get creative.
One evening after yet another parking standoff, I made a trip to the pet store. The next morning, Owen’s car was covered in birdseed and wildlife attractant. By sunrise, his hatchback looked like a scene from Animal Planet – birds pecking at the roof, raccoons investigating the wheels, and Owen standing there with his mouth open.
When he turned to see me smirking on my porch, I expected anger. Instead, he laughed. “Okay, you win,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually kind of impressive.”
As we cleaned the mess together, he confessed the truth: the parking tickets he’d been leaving on my windshield weren’t just about convenience. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out since I moved back,” he admitted sheepishly. “Blocking your garage was the only excuse I could think of to talk to you.”
I should have been furious. Instead, I found myself agreeing to coffee. Now, a year later, Owen still parks in my driveway – but only because he’s usually staying over. Turns out the most annoying neighbor can sometimes become the best thing that ever happened to you.
