Imagine this.
Let’s say that my nextdoor-neighbor has a sprinkler in his front yard. It’s automatic. For some reason, it always manages to pop up and start spraying right as I’m walking out to my car in the morning, spritzing me from head to toe. This happens two or three times. So I call my nextdoor-neighbor and I tell him that he needs to do something about his rogue sprinkler. I get up the next morning, step across the drive and … damn, I’m splashed again. Now, I’m fed up. Something needs to be done about that sprinkler, so I step on over and unhook it from the hose. I call my nextdoor-neighbor and I tell him that I have his sprinkler in my garage for safe-keeping. This upsets my nextdoor-neighbor , but I assure him that his sprinkler will be safe and sound until we get this whole situation straightened out.
What I failed to mention is that I left my nextdoor-neighbor’s sprinkler in the same garage where I keep Jimmy, my blue-assed orangutan with multiple personality disorder. Usually, I can trust Jimmy, but he has some days that are worse than others. Unfortunately, he finds the captive sprinkler on one of his bad days. The sprinkler is smashed with a hammer, used as a back scratcher, smacked like a puck and worn like a hat. After the day is done, it resembles no sprinkler known to man.
One of the neighbor kids manages to peek under my garage door to snap a Polaroid of Jimmy wearing the sprinkler fedora and he gives it to my next-door neighbor. My next-door neighbor is furious, speechless and indignant. Sure, his sprinkler had timing issues, but did it deserve fashionable repurposing at the hands of a primate?
Probably not. As much as the sprinkler bothered me, my next-door neighbor has been wronged. Such an event is beyond unfortunate and it is just not the way things are done around my house. An apology is certainly in order and I am the one to do it.
So I march right across the street to my other neighbor and I apologize to him instead.
