My Neighbor Charged Her Electric Car From My House Every Night Without My Permission – I Didn’t Call the Authorities, but I Did Something Better to Teach Her a Lesson
“I’m almost done.”
She gave an irritated little laugh.
“Fine. I’ll give you ten bucks if it matters that much. Don’t be greedy, Eleanor. It’s just a little electricity.”
Greedy. That word landed harder than she knew. I had spent forty years being the woman who baked casseroles for grieving families and watered plants for neighbors on vacation.
“Please unplug the cable,” I said quietly.
“This is why I didn’t ask.”
“I’m almost done. Ten more minutes.”
“Now, Monica.”
She sighed like I was a child asking for a second cookie, then made a slow show of tugging the cable out and coiling it in her hands.
“You know,” she added over her shoulder, “this is why I didn’t ask. I knew you’d make a whole thing out of it.”
I had let all of it slide.
I did not answer. I forced my mouth into the smallest, tightest smile I could manage, turned on my heel, and walked back into my house.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I stood in the dark hallway for a long moment, listening to my own breathing.
Then I walked to the kitchen table, sat down, and stared at the electric bill that was still sitting there under the fruit bowl.
Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.
I was almost smiling.
I had let all of it slide at first. Because I was tired. Because I was alone. Because being “the nice one” was easier than the alternative.
But then I picked up my phone and texted Diane.
‘Mystery solved. I know why my electric bill doubled. And I have a plan.’
My phone rang less than ten seconds later.
