My Neighbor Threw Rotten Tomatoes at My Front Door Because I Didnt Put up Halloween Decorations Soon Enough
When my seven-year-old daughter was in the hospital, fighting severe pneumonia, my neighbor decided my lack of Halloween decorations was somehow offensive. So, she “decorated” my front door—with rotten tomatoes. Her reason? Apparently, not having put up Halloween décor was unacceptable to her.
Life has been relentless lately, to say the least. Between double shifts at the diner and spending every free moment by Lacey’s bedside, I’ve been surviving on little more than caffeine and determination.
It all started with what seemed like a common cold. Lacey came home from school with a light cough, and by Friday, she was running a high fever. As she struggled to catch her breath, she whispered, “Mommy, I don’t feel good.”
That was the moment I knew this was serious. I didn’t wait for an ambulance—I wrapped her in a blanket and drove straight to the ER as though my own life depended on it. Because it did. Lacey is my life.
The ER was a blur of words like “severe pneumonia” and “aggressive infection.” The doctor confirmed what I feared: she’d be in the hospital for weeks, and the bills were mounting. Between working double shifts and staying with her at the hospital, I barely had a moment to breathe, let alone think about holiday decorations.
That’s when Carla, my next-door neighbor and self-appointed HOA enforcer, decided to start up her usual complaints. She was notorious for her obsessive adherence to “neighborhood standards,” and this time it was about Halloween. She sent me a direct message: “Are you special or something? Why isn’t your house decorated for Halloween? It’s almost the end of October, and it’s embarrassing for the neighborhood.”
I replied calmly, explaining that I’d been in the hospital with my daughter for two weeks, using every spare cent on medical bills. Her response? Silence. I figured she’d dropped the issue.
Finally, after three exhausting weeks, Lacey was well enough to come home. As we pulled into our driveway, an awful, sour smell greeted us. Our front door was plastered in smashed, rotten tomatoes, with a note taped in the middle: “Now at least it looks a bit like Halloween. No need to thank me.”
Livid, I settled Lacey inside and marched over to Carla’s house. When she opened the door, she had a smug look on her face.
“Enjoying the Halloween decorations?” she sneered.
“Are you kidding me, Carla? I told you my daughter was in the hospital. You knew what I was going through, and you still did this?” I snapped.
Before she could respond, her husband Dan, clearly horrified, appeared behind her. He dragged Carla inside, where I heard him demand an explanation, his voice rising in frustration. Moments later, Dan returned, offering a sincere apology and promising to clean my door and cover any damages.
A few hours later, karma struck in the form of the worst storm of the season. The next morning, Carla’s meticulously arranged Halloween display was obliterated. Her precious inflatables were strewn across three lawns, her pumpkins had turned to mush, and her expensive decorations were tangled and broken.
Dan kept his word and showed up early to clean my door. He even brought groceries and asked how Lacey was doing. I thanked him, and as he scrubbed the last bits of tomato from my door, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for his kindness.
Carla hasn’t spoken to me since, and honestly, I’m loving the peace and quiet. It’s funny how karma works—sometimes, it doesn’t just come around; it storms through like a hurricane.