The Propheteer

This weekend was spent digging holes and filling them in. Literally. Sabrina and I were getting started on the beginnings of our rock walkway, and made a pretty good start (with the help of my brother-in-law. It’s nice having a brother without having had to grow up with one…), actually getting the “apron” section done across the front of the deck. After a hard day’s work getting all these stones put down on a bed of sand, we went up and relaxed on our deck – I’m still thrilled to have a deck to relax on – whereupon our closest neighbor (We’ll call her “D” from here on out) came out and screamed to HER neighbor (on the other side) “DID YOU PARK IN MAH SPACE AGAIN?!”. The gentleman (this is the guy that yelled at us about our parking during our Christmas party…we’ll call him “Mr. S”) responded, rather smugly, “wasn’t me, D. You should know better than that. Why don’t you call the cops?” and she storms back inside. Mr. S looks at us across the deck and says “she won’t do it! she’s got too many drugs in there!”

I must have gone kind of pale at that point, because he continues on “it’s true! AIN’T THAT RIGHT, D? YOU WON’T CALL THE COPS, WILL YOU?”

No love lost there. Which would have been bad enough, but later on that evening we went back out on the deck and noticed a party one block over. Mystery solved, yes? That’s where all the cars came from. Mr. S just happened to be on the porch, too, and yells back into D’s house “D! HEY D! IF YER NOT TOO BUSY DOIN’ DRUGS, WE FOUND OUT WHO PARKED IN YOUR SPOT! COME ON OUT, D! WHAT’S THE MATTER, TOO HIGH?”.

It’s worth noting that the neighbors on our other side…the quiet, pleasant ones…they appear to be moving out.

As happy as I am to own a place, I really wish my other neighbour would move.