(2003 to 2005)

Edna, Edna, Edna.

Mon Jan 10 21:09:00 UTC+1100 2005


I introduced myself to the lady that lives in the apartment opposite me well over a year ago. (maybe two years now..?)

Shortly after that, I forgot her name.

Upon our next meeting I apologised for forgetting her name, and asked her for it again.

Then I forgot it again.

That was within a week of me moving in.

We've been neighbours for ages now, and had plenty of chats about the weather across our balconies in the morning, etc.

Naturally I've been avoiding addressing her directly, and it has become perfectly obvious to both of us that I don't know her name. We're friendly enough (although I have a bad habit of misinterpreting people, or so it would seem, so perhaps she secretly hates me for some reason that has never been communicated in any form of language that I have been able to decipher and is plotting my demise. I sure hope not though, because I hate it when that happens) but the fact that I clearly don't know her name has left us a little bit of a loss, as I'm always bashfully trying to dodge my way out of conversations so as to avoid finding myself in a situation where not knowing her name becomes painfully embarrassing (as opposed to mildly awkward).

It's kind of funny too, because every time she sees me she says “Hello, JOHN.” Just to let me know she knows. But I politely beam a smile and say “Good morning! Lovely day today, isn't it!” which pretty much gets me off the hook as I storm past to get to my car, the footpath, etc. :P

Over the time that I've been here, my neighbours have been very 'neighbourly'. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves, but every now and again I'll get a knock on the door from someone reminding me that I need to collect my mail (usually when my mailbox is overflowing because I never check it), or give me something a courier left outside, etc.

I've had a few notes slipped under the door about stuff that the body corporate is doing from her (the lady is also heavily involved with the body corporate as I understand it). The problem is that she always signs off in the form Mrs. [surname]. Which sucks.

Anyhow, the other day I was asked to move the phone books that had been sitting on my doorstep for a month or two, and she signed off as Edna.

Thanks Edna.

Of course, even now that I know, I won't be able to call her by it, because that would be too weird.

This name thing sneaks up on me all the time. When I was younger it very rarely happened, or if I did it was usually somewhere where I could ask someone else to remind me of the persons name discretely. I guess I really should make more of an effort.

I don't feel too bad though. I had the inverse problem with the bloke that lived above me. I met him slightly after the time that I realised I'd forgotten Edna's name so I made a point of remembering it (I even wrote it down, just in case). But Brett couldn't remember my name to save himself. That made me feel good. :)

Copyright © 2003-2005 John Elliot