So, people keep asking me, "Did you move into your new house yet?" The answer is still no, unfortunately, and when I say unfortunately, I mean "When am I finally going to escape this place, WHEN?!?" Or, maybe something a little more frantic and desperate.
Have you heard the expression "She was so mad she was spitting nails"? That is an expression, isn't it? Well, if it isn't, I'm making it up, because I totally felt that way this morning. Let me once again explain the horror that is our current neighborhood. On one side, we have The Clampetts. They have so many people coming in and out of there, it is like a half way house. The back yard looks like the Walmart toy section threw up, and the front of the house looks like an episode of "Flip That House", before they do the flip. The mailbox is sitting sideways on a step, and the porch often looks like a garage sale is going on. We got their mail by mistake once, and I took it over and just started laughing. The storm door was missing the window part on the top, so they just opened the main door and stuck their hand through the storm door hole to grab the mail out of my hands. The owner's daughter moved in for a while, and brought her druggy boyfriend with her, and we are convinced that he is the one who broke into our house a while back. The daughter was probably the lookout.
On the other side of us, we have a lovely couple. The man has never spoken to us, except to yell at my dad , (who was nice enough to be doing some yard work for us), for trimming what he claims is his bush. The woman informed me shortly after we moved in that the people who owned the house before us stole "those flowers" out of her yard! When Jim and I were trying to get pregnant, for 2 loooonnnggg years, and she asked me "When are you two gonna have a baby?", I answered, "We are trying to have one". Her reply was "Trying? (Snort) We never had to try!" I invited her in for lemonade and we've been best buds ever since. Ahem. The worst part is their dog. When the dog is outside, it barks nonstop. He barks when someone goes by on the road, he barks when he hears us trying to enjoy our back deck, he barks when the wind blows. He does.not.stop. It turns my normally laid back husband into a crazy person mumbling about creative plans for the dog's untimely demise.
I have managed to remain fairly calm about all of this, until this morning. This morning our front door was open so Dylan could look out the storm door at the "Meow". I saw something go past the door out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was one of the handfuls of cats who have heard that my husband rescued the "Meow", and is mooching her food when we aren't looking. Then, I saw them. In the past few weeks, The Clampetts, have acquired a new "puppy" to go along with their other dog whose breed I'm unsure of. The "puppy" is an already large German Shepherd. The other dog and the "puppy" were on our front deck. I was mad immediately. I went to the door to chase the dogs back into their own yard, when they started barking and growling at me, IN MY OWN HOUSE. I went screaming to Jim, "JIM! THE NEIGHBOR'S DOGS ARE ON OUR DECK BARKING AT ME! WHAT IF I WAS OUT THERE WITH DYLAN? IT'S A GERMAN SHEPHERD, FOR GOD'S SAKE, AND THEY DON'T KEEP IT CHAINED! I'M GOING TO FREAK OUT!"
My normally laid back husband's face turned 3 shades of red, and he chased the dogs into their yard, and told the owner, "This cannot happen again. We have a little boy over here". His reply - "Oh, yea, I guess I better get a chain". My normally laid back husband then went to our shed, grabbed a baseball bat, brought it into the kitchen and informed me that I was to use this on the dogs if they ever came near Dylan. Like I said, "Papa Bear".
Don't worry, we were at the new house working all day today. Nothing like a few (insert not nice word of your choice here) neighbors to light a fire under one's butt.