FUN WITH NEIGHBORS

Aren't neighbors fun?

Lord knows, I've had my share.  I've lived in two apartments and am
currently in my fifth house. 

Generally, I've been lucky. 

At my first house, the drug dealers down the street and I just kept our
distance from each other and their pit bull only attacked me the one time.
You have to learn to let the little things go.

At my next house, the constant threat of brush fires kind of united us.  The
only time we ever really fought was when a gopher snake was spotted in the
area. 
The pesty digger problem was so bad, we all tried to tempt the reptile to
make our yard its home. 

We moved from there to our first home in Oregon.  That was definitely the
most unfriendly neighborhood. 
Most of the residents held us personally responsible for the increase in
real estate problems since we were from California. 

The old lady next door said my sprinkler caused rust spots on her roses and
when I accidentally placed it too close to her prized flowers, she attacked.
I came out of my house only to find her wildly swinging the hose and banging
my poor, defenseless sprinkler against the ground. 
It never stood a chance. 

I had to run back inside so she wouldn't see me laughing because a deranged
neighbor armed with a garden hose is nothing to trifle with.

My last neighborhood was actually okay.  I miss most of the folks who lived
there.  But some moved out before I did.

We used to have a neighborhood party to watch the July 4th fireworks be set
off.  We would purchase some of the legal ones to set off early and then at
10:00pm, the local newspaper sponsored a big show with the pyrotechnics set
off from a nearby butte. 

Most years, the show concluded with the butte being set on fire and the
sounds of fire engine sirens would bring the evening to a close.

But one year, as we were sitting around watching the show, one of the
neighbors let off his own explosion. 

His wife divorced him soon thereafter and I always wondered if the two
events were in some way connected. 

The force of his personal release blew a small hole in his beach chair and
sent me flying out of mine as I could no longer remain upright and still
laugh that hard.

My present neighborhood's entertainment is provided by the grouchy guy who
lives behind me. 

He's lived here for 18 years, as he always too happy to tell you,
repeatedly, and it's always been a quiet, wilderness area, a sort of Eden,
if you will. 
I have three dogs, all of whom bark on occasion, and he is none too pleased.


He shared his feelings about my dogs with me when I had lived here less than
three days. 
He started in on our new next-door neighbors before they even moved in.
They were just visiting the construction site when he spotted their dog and
gave them the "I've-lived-here-for-18-years" speech. 

I was surprised he had any voice left after he yelled at the contractors for
hammering too loud.  Maybe they sell padded hammers somewhere but I don't
think they would be very effective.

Also, according to this disgruntled gentlemen, I deliberately and with
malice aforethought, placed my house on my lot to direct maximum noise to
his lot behind me. 
I didn't know this was even possible but maybe he meant he wanted my house
to be located on a lot many miles away. 

In addition, he told our new neighbors where to plant trees so as to block
their lights from his backyard.  Never mind that it would take at least
another 18 years for the trees to grow to a height to do much good. 
It's never too early to start a worthwhile project.

Revenge, though, can be creative. 
It's amazing how many of our fireworks went off in close proximity to his
yard. 
Also, one of my dogs has developed the timing of her defecation to occur on
her daily walks at the base of his driveway. 
Other deposits seem to fly over the fence at will. 

But just to be sure, I'm keeping my garden hoses locked up at night. 

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Lynette 2004
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