Quoted:
Just a fair warning - doing nice things for others generally turns out bad for you. I've learned my lesson - someday I'll tell the whole story.
No good deed goes unpunished.
The house two-down from me was the first walk-away in the 'hood. After an entire summer of the yard running away, I decided to mow it. The grass and weeds were literally chest high.
I get on the mower with my weedeater across my lap, drive the 200 yards down the road and got busy. I had to mow it several times; I had to walk back home to get my gas can because I burned a whole tank on it and ran out. The willow tree was nighmarish to weed-eat around.
I decided to not mow the fenced backyard as it was not visible and I didn't have a key to open the gate anyway.
As I was driving back up the street to my house, the 'lady' who lives across the street from the yard I had just mowed came flying out of the house and commenced to chewing my ass out.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"You didn't even mow the back and you just left those piles of grass in the yard!"
She calmed down a little bit when she realized who I am (her neighbor) and I went home thinking maybe she just thought I had been hired to mow it.
Well......not; that wasn't it.
She ran her mouth to the whole neighborhood about how sorry I am for doing a half-ass job on the walk-away lot.
Next story:
The house across the street from me is a walk-away. The guy who lived there had quite a fall as he was the facilities engineer for a sort-of TV station everyone in America has seen. I liked the guy when he moved in. He had some really good parties......but then he lost his job and rapidly weirded out. He got really-really skinny and withdrawn. He lasted reclusively and unemployed for about 6 years and then one day there were pick-ups in the yard moving his shit out, but not all of it....I mean the real "shit" was left in the house.
I walked over to say bye to him, but I didn't go in. A few days after he was gone, another neighbor waved me over to what we now call the "shit-house" or the "outhouse." I walked over kinda scared; thinking maybe he was dead in there, but what I saw was sort-of worse.
He had this little dog and I suppose in his reclusiveness he wouldn't let it out and it had shit ALL OVER THE HOUSE, but mostly in the formal living room. One literally couldn't walk in the living room without stepping on shit.
(I'm gagging as I type this.)
The bank has hired cleaning crews and painters and refloored the house and all, but it still smells like a wet, outdoor dog in there to me, but maybe it's my expectation.....I dunno. I wish I hadn't seen it.