There’s a woman who lives two doors down from me who, like me, drives an Azera. I think of her as Other Azera Woman. I see her leaving very early in the morning on the rare occurance that I actually drag my lazy ass outta bed to go to the gym before work, and sometimes if I’ve worked late I’ll see her arriving home.

Tonight, I was a little later than usual and found myself pulling onto my street right behind Other Azera Woman. We both rounded the corner, only to find that two cars were illegally parked right smack in front of a fire hydrant, blocking her driveway. I pulled into my own driveway and got out of my car slowly, watching things unfold. Other Azera Woman blared her horn a few times. I wondered if the cars belonged to someone she knew, someone who knew the signal to come out and move his/her shitty looking Honda Civic to a more respectable place.

Nothing happened.

Now this? Was getting interesting.

I dashed inside to deposit my lunch box and purse on the kitchen counter before dashing upstairs to look out the bedroom window and watch the events unfolding outside. Other Azera Woman was visiting the two townhomes in between hers and mine to see if she could find the owner of the car. I stood by the window, watching intently. Oliver was lying in the fast-fading sunlight, and I scratched behind his ears. I was trying to look nonchalant, like I was really just petting my cat and not spying on the neighbors.

Other Azera Woman gave up and returned to her car. A slim blond girl from the unit next door to hers joined her outside, gazing up and down the street as if the Civic’s owner might appear. It was apparent now that no one knew who owned the car, or the Dodge pickup parked next to it.

The Civic was closest to Other Azera Woman’s driveway, so it was causing the bulk of the problem. The Dodge pickup wasn’t completely prohibiting her from entering or exiting her driveway, but it would certainly make things tight for her.

Paul joined me at the window to see what I found so fascinating. “They have her completely blocked,” I reported rather sympathetically.

“They did it to her a couple of weeks ago, too,” he told me. I shook my head, irritated on her behalf. “If I still had the Jeep, I’d take care of it.”

“Yeah! You could run that Civic over!” I exclaimed.

He nodded. “Or I could just hook the winch to the Civic and pull it away from there,” he said, more practically. “If it was me, I could see myself getting mad enough to do something like that.”

I watched for a couple more minutes, then felt bad. “I think I should tell her she can park in front of our driveway,” I finally said. We weren’t going anywhere else.

“Okay,” he agreed.

I bounded down the stairs and out the door, eager to offer up my little space of curb to my neighbor. “They’ve got you blocked, don’t they?” I called, approaching her.

She nodded irritably. “Yeah.”

“You can park across my driveway if you like,” I offered, feeling good that I had something to bring to this. I don’t reach out to my neighbors very often but I instantly liked this one. Her blond hair was cut in a stylish bob, she was wearing a nicely tailored suit and looked positively exhausted. “You’re just now getting off work too, aren’t you?” I added.

She nodded again. “I’ve been going since six o’clock this morning,” she revealed.

The trim blond piped up. “You can use our driveway too,” she said. “We’re home for the night.”

Other Azera Woman smiled a little. “Thanks,” she said. “You know, I’m not a mean person, but I want to slash this guy’s tires.”

“Key his car. One scratch for every minute you have to wait,” I suggested helpfully, earning a smile from my neighbors.

Then a chubby guy came up to us, saying, “I’m sorry, that’s my buddy’s car. I’ll have him move.”

“He needs to not park there,” Other Azera Woman admonished. “Next time I’ll just call the towing company.”

At this point I had nothing else to say or do. If I’d been her, I would’ve really had to resist the urge to bludgeon the inconsiderate bastard with my oh-so-pretty high heeled shoe. So I went in the house and detailed the events to Paul, who probably didn’t care but dutifully acted interested in the neighborhood drama.

The Civic owner has moved his dumpy little car to the curb in front of his friend’s house. I wonder if Other Azera Woman will sneak out in the middle of the night and slash his tires after all.

I really, really hope she does.