Monday, June 13, 2011


We live in a totally cool neighborhood. It's the kind of block where the kids can safely ride their bikes in the street, and everyone knows each other.

On Summer Solstice, which coincides with a huge parade in our town, the 'mayor' of our our neighborhood (elected during the progressive holiday dinner party) gets a permit and closes the street to traffic for a huge block party. There are inflatable slides and bounce houses, face painting and parachute games, a talent show, a beer garden, and a DJ. It's a highlight of our summer.

It's our own little nirvana except for one thing; I hate our next door neighbors. In the 13 years we've lived here, they've had more tenants that I can count. At some point, they had several bunk beds set up to accommodate a revolving door of exchange students until someone reported them (not me, although I was sorely tempted).

Their house is a complete eyesore. The roof has needed replacing the entire time we've lived next door to them - so tarps and sandbags cover their garage. The trees are so overgrown that they can barely pull one car into a driveway that could easily park three of their five cars plus a motorcycle. They refer to their landscaping as an 'edible' environment: avocados, bananas, guavas, oranges, lemons, blackberries, apples, almonds, persimmons and grapes. And because of all the fruit, they have a total rat infestation. This spring alone, our cats have caught a dozen rats and a half dozen gophers from their yard.

I half-seriously unveiled an elaborate plan to Husband - which involved freezing rat carcasses to bring out for the next occasion our neighbor complains to us about petty bullshit.

Husband replied to my rant with, "Alright, Jeffrey Dahmer."

No comments:

Post a Comment