So, my creepy neighbor is no more.
He's not dead or anything. He's just not living. Not living in the house next door anymore. I assume he's still living...somewhere.
The important part of this story is that I finally feel free to leave my house without having to avoid making eye contact with him. It's been really hard to feign such interest in the bird that hangs out in my chimney.
Plus, I'm not good at it. I always get caught. Then, I have to pretend like I didn't notice him there because I was so interested in the freakin bird.
Oh. Sorry. I was just noticing how grey and drab that little bird is. See how he's just sitting there, doing absolutely nothing? It's so intriguing that I couldn't tear myself away. Sorry I didn't say 'hi' sooner, but this shit is riveting.
I fool no one. Not even myself.
I fear that this feeling of comfort will be short-lived, as potential tenants are already swarming. The days of hanging out in my backyard braless may soon be over.
MB and I are a little nervous about who may move in. We have decided that we should stage elaborate scenarios in an attempt to weed people out. Since it's too freakin hot to do our own scheming, I sought the advice of my facebook friends.
They were wide ranged, including insinuating that we eat little children, burying a carpet and bloody axe in the back yard, having my husband don his kilt and bare all. That last one came from his firehouse buddies. They love to reference the kilt.
My lovely neice suggested I run around the yard in my pajamas chasing Atticus. That's funny because I did just that in the other neighbor's yard not too long ago. It didn't scare them off, but that's okay. I'm trying to get into their good graces because they have a pool. Sons of bitches.
Anyway, as it turns out, I didn't need anyone's suggestions because I'm perfectly capable of making a horrible first impression on the potential new tenants all on my own.
I was out in the yard last night with Atticus. We were playing fetch and I was using my super sweet, 'good boy' voice to encourage his good behavior. It happens so rarely, that I feel the need to over-praise. Whatever works.
While Atticus was fetching the one ball (we use 2 because he doesn't get the whole 'drop it' command yet), I reached down to pick up the second ball. All of a sudden, he comes charging across the yard and rams right into me with all of his fat little strength. He knocked the wind right out of me and almost knocked me backwards into the fish pond.
My super sweet 'good boy' voice took a turn and I let loose a slew of very unsweet words. Words that would shame your mother. This was all followed by a very loud grunt because getting socked in the crotch by 60 pounds of charging evil does not feel good.
It was at that moment that I heard the voices of potential tenants on the other side of the fence. Apparently, they had been outside touring the yard and had heard the entire thing.
I guess I should be happy they didn't get the full visual of me bent over, clutching my bitz and trying to regain my footing, lest I be covered in pond scum while the puppy runs away with a smug grin on his chubby little face.
I'm thinking I might want these neighbors to move in. Hell, it can only go up from here, right?