Caution: I Spy On My Neighbors
Friday, February 20th, 2009So you probably don’t want to move into the house next door to me that has been vacant for the last several months. Because, you know, I’m the one peeking out the window when you and your stupid friends get into a drunken brawl in your front yard. (True story, by the way.)
Admit it, you do it, too. Right?
RIGHT?
Liar.
Okay, well, you would if you lived in my neighborhood. It’s actually a really nice neighborhood. But there’s this family that moved in about a year ago (or maybe it was like a year and a half ago, but whatever), and I cannot tell you the number of times I have woken up in the middle of the night because police cars were swarming through our neighborhood because of them.
Or the fire truck and ambulance.
And even the ghetto bird had its light aimed right on them one night! You know, the search helicopter?! While, like, literally 10 cop cars were parked on our street, and police with their guns ready snuck around in the dark!
You would spy, too. Don’t deny it. I was probably lucky I didn’t get shot through the window, ha ha.
Really, I have no clue what’s going on over there. They’re really odd. Sometimes they have 8 cars parked out there. And so many different people are in and out of that house all the time. The only inhabitants I’m certain that live there are these two obnoxious little boys who stand in my driveway (when they don’t realize that I’m watching, of course) and bark at my dogs. I mean, come on. My dogs could gobble them up in one bite as their afternoon snack. Maybe one of these days I’ll “forget” to latch the gate… Why on earth would they stand in my driveway and torment them?
My imagination runs wild when I think of what might be going on over there. Maybe they’re running a meth lab. Or a halfway place for illegal aliens. Or a religious cult. Whatever. They’re even weirder than the freak with severe depression that lives up the street from them.
So yes, yes I admit that I leave a nose print on my window regularly in the middle of the night trying to figure out what on earth is going on over there. Who wouldn’t?
It should come as no surprise, though, that I have consequently developed a slightly unhealthy sense of… er… we’ll call it “territorialism” when I see people checking out the house for sale next door.
During the day when a family with their Realtor stops by to consider it a potential new home, I have to resist the urge to growl from my kitchen window as I stare them down.
No, not them. They’re too loud. I can hear their over-exuberant voices from here. And their kids are out of control. Ew! Not them, either! Their car is a damn rattle bucket! I know for a fact that they’d wake me up every morning at 5:30 when they climb into that junker to go to work. No. Just no. NO grumpy old farts with sourpuss looks on their faces allowed. They’d complain to the state when they hear my rap music blasting out of my dance room. Go back to Michigan, people!
They never see me.
Is it wrong of me to feel a sense of relief when my dogs start barking at them while they head outside and eye my dog-shit-filled backyard from over the fence?
And so far, that house is still for sale. Gee, I wonder why…
Current Mood:
Mischievous
Angry