//JUST ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL//
“There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’ ”
– from “Mending Wall” by Robert Frost
Yeah well, had Frosty the Poetman ever lived nextdoor to my neighbors, he would be frantically collecting stones for a heftier wall. There are not large, healthy trees between us ... nothing but flimsy, see-through, decades-old chainlink. And it’s not near enough.
Despite my whining here, I try to be a “live and let live” neighbor. But I can hear our property values hitting the sewer every time they make some sort of “improvement” on their house. I’m not one to talk at the moment ... our 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom house currently has only one full working bathroom. But I’m working on it! Promise! Progress will be made this weekend!
Nevertheless, here’s the Top 10 Ways our Neighbors Drive Us Batty:
1. They don’t mow their lawn often enough. We suspect it’s to preserve the “herb garden” tucked away behind their tool shed.
2. The husband, Gilligan Hippy, bought his wife, Repunzel Cropantsha, a car for their wedding anniversary. Aww, how sweet! Well, instead of ridding themselves of the rusting jalopy she was driving, they have parked it in the back yard. Right next to the “herb garden.” It’s like a White Trash Sanford & Son.
3. Previous residents enclosed the patio. The current residents installed a hot tub three months ago, but have yet to use it as a hot tub. Instead, laundry is piled on top. We suspect they use it to wash their entire wardrobe at once rather than use the washing machine for smaller loads. Don’t know which is worse, the thought of them marinating in the tub or of them walking around nekkid while their clothes are in a supersized rinse cycle.
4. Gilligan plays in a band that covers classic rock tunes. For their wedding anniversary, Repunzel bought the husband a trailer for loading up his drums on the way to gigs or rehearsal. Cool, right? It’s the world’s ugliest trailer, kind of tie-dyed, blue with purple undersides, and he parks it where we can’t help but see it (or feel its presence) when we step out the back door. Stop looking at me, Percussion Chariot From Hades!
5. Gilligan is tearing up his lawn by parking his ugly trailer back there. This only irks me because he raised a stink when we were forced to replace our tie-in to the city sewer. The plumbers disturbed some of his “grass” and he wanted them to come and reseed it. He even harassed the plumber until he came back and smoothed the ground out a bit more. So sorry, but we couldn’t flush our toilets! We weren’t thinking of your months-dead lawn! The self-inflicted damage is ten times worse than what the plumbers did. Ironic fun!
6. Dogs. They have a red heeler/Border collie mix – Red Rider – who’s annoying but semi-friendly. They used to have a basset hound – Sir Barxalot – whose baritone WHOOF WHOOF WHOOF kept us up into the small hours. It was worst when Gilligan and Repunzel were out on the town on the weekends. Sadly, Barxalot bit their daughter on the nose and was quickly jettisoned (bummer). We could sleep in peace! Then they got a puppy ... because ... the ... neighborhood ... was ... too ... quiet. Newbie Crapmuffin has added his voice to the village. They rarely pay them much attention, which brings me to ask: WHY HAVE DOGS? Sheesh.
7. While Gilligan has the courtesy and neighborliness to NOT allow band rehearsal at his abode (he told us it’s because of the Cutlet, and I give him kudos for being so thoughtful), his bandmates sometimes hang at their house. One Saturday afternoon, I was working in the yard and heard a wretching gag. A dude was bent over, puking his green guts out. He would groan, empty his stomach, limp down the street and then return for Barfapaloozer 2003. This went on for 30 minutes. Hello! Bathroom? Hospital? Somewhere I can’t see or hear you? Classy!
8. When the lawn grows tall enough to cast shadows on their roof, Gilligan mows the lawn without a shirt. Noooo! Why aren’t there laws?
9. They have wild late-night keggers and attendees park their junkers so we can’t get out of our driveway.
10. We don’t get invitations to use the hot tub when they’re gone (Hey! A baby generates quite a bit of laundry!) or sample any of the crazy funweed from their “herb garden.” Guess you’ve got to fight for your right to party. Nothin’ but sour grapes for T-Bone!
It’s not so bad, really. There’s a buffer between the houses. We’re on fairly good terms despite it all. I bet our actions do not leave us blameless in the dislike-your-neighbor arena. At least the old ladies on the other side of us keep their shirts on during yardwork. Small miracles!
Have a wonderful weekend, brothers and sisters. Be safe.
