When I got home last night, I noticed that the half of the driveway trench closest to our neighbors was filled in with dirt. When I got out of my car, one of them was in the back, grilling. We chatted a while, and I asked him about the dirt. "Yes, I did that," he said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "We really do mean to do it, and I know we took a long time--"
"It was great, I have this pile of dirt in the back from when we redid the backyard, and you guys gave me a chance to use it," he said, kindly.
"Well, we'll put grass seed down at least," I said.
"Got that already," he said. "I also had a half a bag left over, so I got to use that as well."
I went inside and teared up. I'm honestly not sure whether I was happy they were so pleasant and understanding or guilty that we had driven them to such efforts.
Later I snapped at Eric for one of his annoying pleasantries, which turned out to be due to his mishearing what I had said (though I don't doubt he would have said something similar no matter what) and started crying uncontrollably. It had to happen. I'm doing better today. Also, I'm looking up places to find dirt.