There has been a breach. A boundary breach.
So, I think you are all aware that I have some teensy weensy issues with a couple of my neighbors. Not sure what I'm talking about? Then, click on 'my neighbors are assholes' in my labels and you will get the idea.
We pretty much have one neighbor that we actually speak to on our block.
We have unofficial feuds with everyone else for various reasons.
The one neighbor has a hundred cats that he doesn't take care of and then conveniently disowns when animal control shows up. He also did push ups at me. Menacingly.
The other guy has a kid who pees in my back yard and the inability to keep his freakin dog in the house or capture said dog once it escapes and has been running around the neighborhood for an hour.
The owner of the house being rented out next door said we were lazy because we haven't fixed up our house to his liking when in fact we are just poor and he is apparently a jackass who discriminates against the poor.
The one guy also has dog issues and allows his old dog to wander around unattended without concern for the fact that he is old and could easily get hit or hurt or anything.
I heart old dogs and I feel they should be treated properly. Proper treatment is to keep them inside, cozy and safe where they can be spoiled. It's the right thing to do.
The other people keep to themselves so we have no beef with them. Plus, they have a really old bloodhound who stands on the porch and tries to howl, but just can't anymore. It sounds kinda like a children's toy that's been stepped on a few too many times. I love that dog.
The one neighbor we actually talk to is the same neighbor who was kind enough to help me with my pipes (not a euphemism) that one day. Since that incident, he has been sending his kids over to get various items - cup of sugar (again, not a euphemism), stick of butter, cup of oil. Things like that.
Now, as a dessert addict, I can't help but put all of those ingredients together in my head and see the potential for cake. Have we been delivered a cake yet? No.
So, what the hell are they making? I have no idea. I just know that we keep getting random visits for random ingredients. This is in addition to the random visits from the youngest boy who wants to feed the fish.
I have no problem with him feeding the fish. However, I do have a problem with children ringing my doorbell all hours of the night and day asking if they can feed the fish.
It usually occurs when I am a)naked, b)in the shower and naked, c)dying my hair and naked with dye dripping onto my face, d) weighing in and therefore naked (duh), e)asleep, f)braless which is pretty much naked.
There is a lot of naked time in my household. Don't judge us. It's why we have blackout curtains on every window.
MB also gets annoyed because he experiences the fish feeding inquiries at random hours and while naked. MB is pretty much naked all the time though. There is no good time to pop in on MB. Just fyi.
Pop in visits are annoying, but tolerable. When you combine them with personal overshares, it becomes a package that I'm just not interested in.
I currently know way too much about my neighbor's mental health, substance abuse issues, relationship issues, family dramas and sexual traumas.
That's right. That's not a typo.
I will spare you the details, but let's just say that I can not look him in the eye anymore without getting some very graphic mental images.
Ick. Just ick.
Now, I didn't solicit any of this information. It was all shared during casual conversations in the yard.
Pulling weeds: "I've been sober for 9 days now. It's really hard to quit drinking."
Feeding the birds: "I'm off of work for a little while for depression."
Walking the dog: "My wife left me and took the kids."
Fixing the pipes (again...minds out of the gutter, please): "I was raped by my brother in law."
I can't make this sh*t up. It just happens and then I'm left standing there, looking for an excuse to run back inside and hide.
This week, the man has been stalking me for baked goods. I casually mentioned that I was going to bake some stuff for him and his family. Every day since that casual conversation, he has been right there in my face as soon as I set foot in the yard. "Where's my dessert?"
It kinda made me want to put rat poison in his banana bread.
I didn't. Don't worry. I just may have used a really unripe banana. Like the greenest banana I could find in the grocery store. I hear that makes people sick.
We'll find out, I'm sure.
If alcoholism and sexual trauma are acceptable topics for discussion, I would imagine that vomiting and diarrhea would be too.
So, the question is...moat full of snapping turtles or barbed wire fencing?
What do you think?