janradder

Why is it the only time I ever see the local news in our neighborhood is when there's been a crime committed, yet whenever we have the May Day Parade or the Powderhorn Art Fair or Fourth of July fireworks they're suspiciously absent?

Is there any music worse than Christian pop? I'm talking about the kind you hear on the all Christian radio station, where every song sounds exactly like the last one and all the words are exactly the same -- the kind where between songs, you'll hear that gentle male preacher voice lulling you to sleep with the love of Jesus. Someone in our neighborhood has been blasting it to the neighborhood, perhaps in the hopes that doing so may save some of us sinners (or perhaps it's being done in an effort to finally drive us to the devil once and for all, in an effort to escape that horrid, horrid sound). Dear God, please deliver us from your devotee and shut off that infernal racket . . .

Along with the sound of the neighbor's obnoxious puggle.

Sadly, it was not at all true, my asswipe neighbor's canoe is still very much in his possession, having been kindly been placed into his garage by one of the residents in the condo which was formerly his four-plex.  I know this because he was over in the yard next door, skulking about and then finally pulled the canoe out to show to someone interested in buying it.

Steve has owned the building next to us since about a month before we bought our house ten years ago.  Over the ensuing years he has, among other things, wandered vaguely through our yard in the guise of projects on his own residence, allowed his dog to roam unhindered into our lawn where he would frequently take large gooey craps which Steve would conveniently not notice (both of these were put to a stop about three years into our residence here when we put up fences for the sole purpose of keeping Steve out), planted raspberries on our property after we had expressly asked him not to and then become offended when we dug them up and gave them back, filled a hole around a stump I was in the process of digging out with the left over concrete from his driveway, instructed workers cover our back fence with over a foot of dirt and old broken up concrete when he had yet another driveway put in (and yes, his plan was to leave the debris there permanently because, as he told me, he thought I'd like it there), and finally physically assaulted me when I returned said debris to his new driveway after a week had gone by and it was still in my yard.  Since then I do not talk to Steve.  I do not look at Steve.  I do not even acknowledge that Steve is there.  Even when he has tried to talk to me, sometimes even yelling.  That does not mean that Steve is not there, however, and it doesn't mean that he is not watching me.

Two years ago he decided to turn his four-plex into condos and sell the units off one by one.  At this point, three are sold and the one which he still owns, is rented out to a very nice couple.  All the people who live there, in fact, are very nice.  Steve, though, is not, and even though he does not live there, he is often found skulking about the property, darting through the breezeway between our houses, creepily moving here and there under the guise of doing who the hell really knows (I guess it's yard work but it's never anything that needs to be done since the people who live there take care of the yard themselves).

I am so tired of feeling watched in my yard.  Uncomfortable to be outside with my children.  I have no idea why he keeps returning to this place but I just hope the day comes soon (it's at least a year away, and maybe longer) that he finally gets around to selling that last unit and is out of our lives forever.  Every timehaddayr sees him she thinks to herself (and maybe I'm paraphrasing it, if so, I'm sorry), "May you go never to return."  It's a great sentiment, regarding Steve.  I just wish he'd hurry up and do it, already.

This past Friday I watched out the window as the wind lifted up my asswipe neighbor's aluminum canoe from the top of his garage and threw it into my yard (not that he's an asswipe for keeping the canoe on top of his garage.  He's an asswipe for a multitude of various reasons and anecdotes much too long and involved to get into).  Yesterday, he put it right back up on the garage, same place as before.  Today I watched the wind again pick up the canoe and then throw it to the other side of the garage.  This makes me wonder how many times does this happen that I haven't actually seen it get blown off the roof and how much am I willing to bet that the canoe goes right back on top of the garage the next time it winds up in someone's yard?

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