If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Bad Neighbors

I'm not a friendly-friendly "Let's all get together and have a block party" sort of neighbor. Frankly, I'm just a little too busy to be concerned with what other people are doing. It seems a little middle-school to me, anyway--what do the neighbors think of me?

But, you know, I keep the grass cut and the yard clean and the house in good shape. I don't have loud parties or put tacky signs in my front yard. I keep my cats and dog inside. (Except Odysseus, who was actually the next door neighbors' cat before they threw him out in the middle of winter. Now, he's so shy of people, he'll probably never come inside.) So I think that's a pretty good neighbor.

That's all I expect out of my neighbors, anyway.

Not that they are as considerate. My next door neighbor is a teacher, so he's on vacation in the summer. He likes to have parties on weekdays in his backyard (next to my bedroom) with loud country music, a fire pit, loud guests, and inevitable fighting with his wife.

My neighbor across the street has a Confederate Flag on the rear window of his truck. Also plays country music loudly, no matter how early or late. Has a yard littered with kids' toys and whatever half-finished renovation project he's working on at the time.

My neighbor behind me wears a Speedo to do his yard work. With black knee socks. And gold chains. He's about 70. And has so much body hair he looks like he's wearing a bear costume.

But I say nothing about all of this.

A while back, someone hit our mailbox across the street. (I sincerely think it was the neighbor across the street, because they picked it up off the ground and put it back on the pedestal.) That sucks, but oh well. Those kinds of things happen sometimes. They are to be expected.

What I did not expect was to get a letter from the Neighborhood Association informing me that one of my neighbors has complained about my broken mailbox and I have to replace it immediately.

People are assholes.

So, now I am in the market for a new mailbox. Since it sits across the street, in the neighbors' front yard, I think my new mailbox will be something like this one:


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