I am NOT actually the "bigger person" because...

I've just sent a dozen pink roses over to "Tish", the nitwit next door.

My husband suggested last night that it might be "nice" if we were to extend a peace offering, once the monstrous beast of an AC unit had been moved back to its previous location and was growling satisfactorily next to the neighbours' porch. After all, he reminded me, I HAD actually threatened to sick our lawyer, and then the City on her (or was it the City, and THEN our lawyer??), if she didn't have the (insert many colourful expletive words here) unit removed within a MAXIMUM of one week... And, he recalled with alarming accuracy, I HAD actually given her until precisely five o'clock on the seventh day... And, truth be known, I WAS sitting at the kitchen table with a stop-watch in one hand, and a telephone in the other hand yesterday, when he arrived home early to make sure that there wouldn't be any carnage and bloodshed within the final hour... And... and... and...

Well, okay, so perhaps I came on a little "strong".

Hey, it's who I am, people. You Don't Mess With The Domestic Goddess. Not twice, anyway.

Harumph.

Well... Seeing as I'd won the day...

This morning, I grudgingly headed off to my favourite flower shop, ordered the bouquet, and wrote out a "neighbourly" message on the card.

But all the while, dear readers... The Goddess just COULDN'T STOP THINKING what a colossal waste of time and money "being the bigger person" can be.