Two years ago I lived in a large student co op with really beat up hallways.  I suggested that we work together to paint the hallways white, and many people agreed.  One woman, who I'll call Jody, did not.

Jody and I had an argument about the radio shortly after I moved in to the co op.

Jody: "That could bother someone, turn it off."

Bike Lizard: "Well, if it starts bothering someone, they'll tell me."

Jody "People might not like it."

Bike Lizard: "Oh, it's too loud for you!"

Jody: "Yes."

I promptly turned it off, and after that I thought we got along.  And then, after a house meeting about painting the hall ways, she came up to me and said "We've got to talk."  She had green eyes that glowed with anger, and I wasn't sure why.  We went to a lounge, and she lit into me for about 45 minutes.  I'll just give you the low lights.

"People live here.  You must always think about other people, and painting can be really disruptive.  You'd make noise."

BikeLizard: "That's a good point- we should make a rule that you can't yell or listen to music unless its on headphones while we paint."

Jody: "You just want to do this with your friends.  I think you and your friends have infiltrated the co op so you can change it."

At that point I realized she had a mental illness.  All I wanted to do was spiff up the hallways, not cook crack in the basement, and it was obvious that she couldn't tell the difference.  At that point I listened more and talked less.

Jody: "You have parties that people can't come to, and that hurts the co op."

BikeLizard: "Everyone is welcome."

Jody: "But you serve alcohol."

This is in a college co op.  I was at a loss, but I also felt incredibly selfish.  I had been blithely planning a project that would affect all the residents, while only thinking of the end result, not the living under construction reality. Paint would make the co op a nicer place to live, but if most people who lived there agreed with Jody, it would have been the wrong thing to do.  Several house meetings later, it turned out that all the residents wanted the place painted, and Jody moved out.

I've always felt bad about that.  She was not well, and I pushed her out of her home, however unintentionally.  I always meant to write her an email, and apologize for what happened, even if she was too far gone to recognize it as sincere.

And now I can't.  I just learned that she died suddenly on March 18.  I googled her name, but couldn't find an obituary.  So, Jody, I'm really sorry.  I'm sorry I didn't get you the help you so clearly needed, I'm sorry I never apologized.