Tolerate Thy Neighbor

When we moved into this neighborhood, it basically consisted of old people that have lived in these houses pretty much since they were built in the 50’s and 60’s. It was quiet and full of adorable senior citizens. Everyone called you “dear” and they said things like, “Can I trouble you for…” and “Back in aught 5…” The street is currently in a state of transition. The old people are dying off and their families are unable to sell the houses, so they’re renting them out. It’s sad, really.  The flower gardens are mowed over for convenience and no one gives a crap about anything. This has resulted in a strange mix of neighbors, most of which I wish would be evicted. Here’s the breakdown:

Madam Bipolar

Madam Bipolar is a single mom with I think three kids. I have to give her props because her kids are very well behaved and respectful. Most of the time it’s quiet over there. However, about twice a month, she loses her effing mind. You hear screaming and crashing and above the carnage is her sobbing wail of “I try soooo haaaaard! Nobody appreciates NOTHIN’!” Now, I can remember my mother having similar breakdowns when I was a kid, but not every two weeks. This woman needs medication. Seriously.

Crazy guy

The man that lives adjacent to us has a pretty severe case of agoraphobia. This is clear because he hasn’t bought any new clothes since 1974 and he actually has mutton chops and an afro. It takes him 30 minutes to muster the courage to walk to the end of the driveway and check the mail. I have offered to help him, but he just runs away. Literally. He’s very afraid of people and I’m not really sure how he is able to live on his own. It’s not unusual to see him standing on his back porch, peering around the corner, watching us in the kitchen. I really don’t think he’s dangerous, just lonely and doesn’t know how to interact with people. Although it is fun when he tries to mow the lawn to just casually walk outside. He actually leaves the mower where it is and runs inside the house.  The first time that happened I had to call Dewie and show her my magic powers. He’s recently moved out, but he’s still in and out because he and his elderly parents are trying to sell the house.

“Can I get a..?” Guy

When these people first moved in, I really thought they would be cool. It wasn’t long before they started coming over to ask for stuff. “Can I get a cigarette?” “Can I get a ride to the store?” “Can I get a ride to work?” I really don’t know how you have to be raised to think it’s ok to just ask people for things over and over without reciprocating. The number of people in that house is slowly increasing as well. It started out with three, and now they’re up to six. They live on the other side of crazy guy and since he moved out, they think they can park in his driveway. I don’t know why this bothers me so much and it probably wouldn’t if it was someone else doing it. But they are “takers.” It doesn’t belong to them and they don’t have any right to use it. I hate these people.

Goldilocks

Goldilocks is strange older woman that lives across the street. She lives alone as far as I can tell. She has long bleached out blond hair which she always wears hanging down her back in a heavy sheet. She wears a sports bra, shorts, and a surgical mask when she mows the lawn. It’s both repulsive and intriguing. She also puts plastic flowers around her mailbox and decorates her house for every single holiday known to mankind. She’s weird, but she’s really nice. She can stay.

Mrs. Schaffer

Mrs. Schaffer in an old crotchety woman that sits on her screened in porch in 204 degree weather and carefully watches the neighborhood. She is aggravating and doesn’t even have the good grace to pretend she’s not being nosy. When you walk by her house she yells at you from the porch, “Molly, have you seen Mr. Hill recently? I haven’t seen him in days. I’m afraid he might have gotten himself drunk, tripped in that shop of his and busted his head open. He could be laying there dying as we speak.” 

Mr. Hill

Mr. Hill lives on the corner. He’s a drunken mechanic that works on cars at his house. He doesn’t have a valid driver’s license, yet somehow still gets away with test driving things he’s “fixed” around the neighborhood. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken out a mailbox yet. His wife keeps his yard carefully manicured, probably to counter the effects of her husband’s drunken antics.

Terry

The only normal neighbor we have. He and his wife are really friendly. The only complaint I have is his need to childishly peel out whenever he leaves on one of the four thousand motorcycles he has. I guess you can’t have everything.

The Tool

The last neighbor I have is a complete tool and I wish him ill will on a regular basis. He doesn’t actually live in the house next door; he lives on the next street, but takes care of it. Supposedly his mother lives in it, but in 5 years I have never actually seen a human enter or exit the house. I think it’s all some kind of elaborate scam. I don’t know why they’re doing it, but they are. First of all the house is painted a horrifying shade of bright aqua. That alone is reason enough to hate him. They also have very mature, gorgeous fruit trees in their yard. Trees that are heavy with fruit every damn year; oranges, pink and yellow grapefruit, tangerines, pears and pomegranates. Every year the tool refuses to let me pick that fruit and every year I watch it rot on the tree. When he comes over to “mow,” he cuts my honeysuckle vine off the fence and he throws debris that comes out of his trees over the fence into my yard. I hate that he makes me sneak into that yard after dark all ninja style and fill a pillow case with delicious, tree ripened, fresh fruit when he could just give it to me. Bastard.