All two of you in my ward (you know who you are) who read this blog, shhhhhhhhhhhh. You may not repeat this story.
I have a crazy back-door neighbor. His wife, thankfully, is both sane and one of the kindest, gentlest people I know. My only concern for her is that I am not sure she knows her husband is crazy.
During the summer he called. "Hello," he says identifying himself by his first and last names and where he lives, "You have apricots hanging into my yard."
I smile, "Yes, Brother Crazy-Back-Door-Neighbor, you may have any of the fruit poking into your yard."
"Well, I have enough apricots, but I hate to see them spoil. How about the rest of the tree, can I have those too."
(Conversation in my head: Yes, please bring your ladder, climb into my tree and take all you want. Feel free to pick fruit from any of my fruit trees and you're welcome into the back yards of other neighbors that my fruit hangs over the fence into their yards as well.)
Real conversation: Um, no, no we'll use those ourselves. Bye.
Periodically, he leaves messages on our phone. Because he sells Amway the messages are usually cryptic, it's just very important for us to call back.
A couple days ago he called and left his first, middle and last name as well as his location--"your back door neighbor." Phew. That cleared things up. I'll definitely call back now that I have all three of your names, because recently a guy with the same first and last name moved into your house and called me about random stuff, but now that I know it's you and not him, I'll call back right away.