My neighbors were robbed yesterday. If that news isn’t frightening enough, it happened in broad daylight while I was home with my three children.

Yesterday I left the front door wide open. The storm door was closed and locked but anyone skulking around could easily peer into my home. Around 4ish Dozer started having a total freak out. I didn’t even bother to look. I just moved his furry white butt from in front of the door and closed it, assuming he was posturing at the next door neighbor lady who is terrified of him (thus making barking at her extra fun and enticing). I feel like such a jackass. Had I looked, I may have prevented a crime or gotten a look at the jerk who did this.

Over the last two months I’ve had a series of dreams about our home getting broken into while we slept. The dreams have rattled me enough that I have spoken with the Hubster about installing surveillance cameras around the property. This may become a reality with the approaching new year. It would be nice to be able to identify the intruder after Dozer decapitates him. Also, we may revisit the three dog matrix. An extra set of teeth is always a huge crime deterrent.

And as a final thought can someone please explain the logic behind a crime like this? During college I lived right at the heart of crack town. I was surrounded by felons. The general thought was leave the hood to steal stuff. These people be po’ they ain’t got nuttin worth stealing. My neighbors aren’t rich, quite the opposite really. They are not at all extravagant and do nothing to attract attention and yet BAM! So please, explain why po’ people are stealing from other po’ people because we be po’ too and I’d be awful sorrowful if someone broke into my home and stole my 15 year old hand me down TV.

This weekend brought about sweeping change regarding the dynamics of our relationship, we hung curtains. While for many, this type of activity would have taken place shortly after moving in, it has taken us over 3 years. Sure we had sheet plastic for awhile but living in a home that resembled the ending of ET was soul sucking.

I know you are probably deeply saddened. Who wouldn’t be? My daily streaking across the house must have provided you with endless hours of amusement. My penchant for dropping trou on my way to the laundry room and then sneaking past the windows on the way to the shower, has probably become a must watch ritual, just like the TGIF line up in the 80s. It was easy to pretend that no one was looking since our home faces a clump of green rather then another home. This head in the sand mentality carried me through for quite sometime, and it probably could have carried me through another year of window-covering-less existence had it not been for one dude.

You see, the final straw came recently when I saw one of you out there ogling me while I sat upon my couch fully clothed. This was no odd accident or cruel coincidence like that time Tessa threw open the bathroom door allowing my bare butt to full moon out the bedroom window where my neighbors, who happened to be chitty chatting, caught sight. No, this was purposeful planned gawking. Window gazing outside of my house must have been a premium activity for you, it was obviously not your first time as you came prepared. In one hand you clutched a can of beer (the other 5 of the pack resting at your feet) and in the other hand a bag of chips. I guess I should be grateful that you only have two hands because I can only guess what the third one would have been holding.

After seeing you, dear neighbor, standing there in the gutter leering into my windows with your can of Natty Ice in hand, I knew the curtains had to go up post-haste. The only problem? Complete lack of curtain rings. Fear not, a solution was close at hand.

Salvation was just a couple of rolls of ribbon away. I like the new look so much that once the room is finished out I may actually purchase ribbon to match the new decor.

As for you dear leering neighbors, you won’t be seeing as much of me (so long as I remember to draw the curtains) but you can still catch me in all my glory. This time I’m giving you permission to watch. On October 10 at 10am I will be broadcasting live on my blog. Not only will you get to once again revel in my smiling face, but you’ll get to see my breasts in action. I’m nursing live as part of The League of Maternal Justice’s Breast Fest. Come see what they’re really for! Maybe it will demystify the entire affair and help bring about some much needed change.

Kindest Regards,

Fidget

If I have neglected to mention it lately, my neighbors scare me.

Everyday, twice a day, I am treated to the same man journeying to the local gas station to procure his 12 packs of Natty Ice. He goes twice daily because it is virtually impossible to ride a bicycle with two twelve packs simultaneously squeezed between your legs.

The neighbors catty corner to my back yard, the ones who had Santa standing sentinel until July one year and still have up Christmas lights that they strung nearly 3 years ago, love to scream obscenities until their voices become raspy and hoarse. They then move inside to throw things, casting their children into the backyard. The children are not phased by the yelling, but apparently all the greenness and sunshine makes them insane. To pass the time they throw rocks at my dogs.

Directly behind us is a very nice man with heathen children and terrifying dogs. He raises pit bulls. The Papa pit bull decapitated two of his own pups burying the heads and bodies in different locations in the yard. We installed an electric fence and after 2.5 years of promises, he finally installed a privacy fence. When we first moved in, his heathen children chucked a dead and badly decomposed possum over our fence. While I was not thrilled by this housewarming gift, my dogs found it utterly enthralling and rolled around all over that possum carcass before running in the house. Over the past few years they have also thrown rocks, ice, and unidentified chunks of crap at my dogs while jumping on their giant trampoline. My neighbor has since built a plywood shack / shed thing that now blocks their trampoline assaults.

In the opposing catty corner, according to my local sheriff’s department website, is a child molester. They have a two story house and thus have a lovely view right into my backyard. I have never seen the person pictured on the website but I can not help but imagine him sitting in the upstairs addition with a telescope, peering over here as my children frolic. I am currently trying to grow some very tall trees in that corner of the yard.

With all of these lovely folks surrounding me, you can understand why I am a bit apprehensive to approach any of them. Normally, I’m the kind of gal who will directly tell you that we have a problem. I will knock on your door at 2am to ask you to keep it down, or perhaps discuss it with you the next day as we are dragging our recyclables to the curb. I don’t feel like I can do that here.

Last night someone was setting off fireworks well into the wee hours of the morning. They had zero regard for the fine folks who have work early, small children sleeping or nervous pets who hyperventilate over such sounds. Apparently they never received the memo that July 4th was the previous day and that no one would be forgiving of such behavior.

I sat and stewed about it. Asshats! What freaking Asshats! But I stayed inside and suffered. I could see them from my window and felt the urge to emerge from my house and scream ‘knock it off asshat!’ but I didn’t. I thought about calling the non emergency line of the police department, but I was fairly certain that they saw me peering out from my windows and fearing retaliation I simply stared at them, hoping they would silently burst into flames.

How do you handle such neighborhood issues? Sometimes I really miss living among seemingly reasonable people. Well, I think I mostly miss living across the street from the Captain of the police department.

My neighbors just mowed the lawn- something I would typically celebrate over since it’s such a rare occurrence (solar eclipse type rare). Today, though, the mowing of the lawn has me three shades of green.

Over the last several months some sort of stink weed has taken over their lawn and in turn invaded small patches of mine. I first became aware of the issue when Tessa so lovingly collect a bouquet for me. I put her flowers in water and thought nothing of it until I found myself wandering the house sniffing everywhere trying to find the source of the mysterious stench. My quest was so thorough that I sniffed dog butts. I think that bears repeating, I purposely sniffed DOG BUTTS. Can you imagine how bad something has to smell to make me think that it was being emitted from the rear end of a dog? After a few hours, I finally realize it was the weeds Tessa had brought me. I threw them away and then had to take out the trash; their rankness was too overwhelming for my industrial strength construction grade garbage bags. It took a few weeks of me screaming like a lunatic to persuade Tessa into leaving the stink weeds to grow (apparently they only stink once you break the stems) and then all was forgotten about them.

So completely forgotten were these, that when the smell settled into my house this morning I started sniffing around.

SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFF, hmmm not baby butt. SNIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFF, not diaper pail. SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFF, not garbage can. SNNNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF, not dog butt… hmm dog butt… Damn it! STINK WEED!

I stopped and I heard the unmistakable sound of a lawn mower. I crept over to my door and peered out the stain glassed panes to see my neighbor mowing away. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Thousands of stink weed stems being busted open and pouring out their putrid odor. I can only hope that the house next door sells before the neighbors get it in their heads to mow again. Either that, or the Hubster stealthily sneaks over under the cover of darkness and uses Round Up all over their front lawn… of course then they’d have no lawn but well.. I think it might be preferable to the odor of stink weed.