But then we lived here a while, and I started to realize that I may hate my neighbor. Like, a lot. You see, my neighbors are annoying. And obnoxious. Actually, I suspect it's actually my neighbor's 20-something punk son that I hate and the Dad is actually decent, but those genes came from somewhere. So I hate them both.
First, they started to park in front of our house. Which shouldn't be a big deal. We live on a street on which parking is allowed- actually it's allowed on both sides of the street which is ri-friggin-diculous, but that's a grievance for the city. I don't mind if you park your Honda Accord in front of my house. I'm not going to see it over our hedge anyway. And we have room in our driveway for both of our cars, plus a bonus invisible car that probably drives better than my Chevy pickup despite the limitation of NOT EXISTING (sorry..also hate my truck.) So I don't need the street parking in front of my house. But you know what I am bothered by parking in front of my house? Your Ford F-5000. Seriously. This truck is as tall as my house.
This is not my neighbor. But I'd probably like him better if it was. This guy looks hilarious.So when I open my windows in the living room and look out to enjoy the neighborhood (or check out what's happening with the 2 police cruisers in front of my other neighbor's house like this morning- juicy!) my view is hindered by this MONSTROSITY. It's also kind of tough to see past when I'm trying to back out of my driveway. I've almost been hit twice, but really I'm more bothered by the aesthetics.
This is extra annoying because I'm pretty sure that my neighbors are single-handedly fueling the demand for off-shore drilling. They own the above tank, another pick-up of similar size, 2 SUVs, and the kid has a motorcycle (which is obnoxiously loud)! There are only 2 people living in the house! And we live in the suburbs of Boston, people. I'm from the South and people didn't own this many gas guzzlers. I feel like there should be some kind of evil stupidity tax.
Finally, today I went into the back yard to put down ant spikes (my yard is overrun by ants-augh!) and found a dead bird. Actually dead bird number 2 in the last week. My yard might be the epicenter of West Nile Virus this summer. Sooo, sorry about that. Anyway, found the bird, was disgusted, put down ant spikes. Then an hour later I went out to pick my husband up from the train and noticed a piece of paper next to the bird that had not been there before. When I got home I went and picked it up. It was a piece of mail addressed to us. Where did it come from?!
Here's my theory: the punk kid got it in their mail (our mailman sucks and constantly mis-delivers things) and then just threw it over the fence rather than walk all the way to our mailbox. I have absolutely no evidence to back this up, but I almost flung a dead bird into their pool in the name of vengeance.
Speaking of their pool, they have a pool. Bastards.
It's going to be a long summer.
