Say Hello To The New Neighbors

As you all know, I live in the Poderosa. I like the Poderosa; it's small, but it's home.

On the south side of me is a little house that contains a small copy business. It's owned by Mr C, who's seldom there, he's a client, and he's a very nice man. Right from the start he told me to feel free to use his graveled front lot to turn around in so I wouldn't have to back out into the road when the traffic was heavy. He also had no problem that time my mother made the world's largest divot in his yard turning her big-ass van around. I was mortified; he waved it off with a smile.

On the west side of me is my backyard and the creek, where the occasional duck will float by on his way to somewhere else. There will also be, unfortunately, the occasional Dorito bag floating by on its way to somewhere else, but the ducks make up for it.

On the east side of me is the road, and a mountain. And they're fine, even if the road is sometimes traveled by that vilest of human species, the trash-from-the-car-window thrower.

And then, there's the north. The wicked north, which contains the plot of land that holds the house beside mine. This house, which, minus the dennette, has my exact floor plan, has become something of a thorn in my side. And for a while, I was perfectly willing to admit that this thorn was placed there by my own hand. But now the Cruel Hand of Fate has roundly stuck the most recent thorn in, right there in my side, around two inches above where I would imagine my appendix to be if I in fact knew where my appendix was.

Here's a tiny bit of history for those of you who don't already know the story. When I moved into the Poderosa, the House to the North was occupied by Shirley. I often refer to Shirley as a little old lady, and while she was little, she wasn't dottering around on a cane ready to keel, she was about early 70s. She greeted me at my door the first day and gave me a nice little gift, then basically butted the hell out of my life. And I liked that; I liked that a lot.

I liked it because she was of the same mindset as I - she was a nice person you were happy was there, even if you never saw her. She'd call occasionally to say hi, or to ask a question, and we might see each other in the yard whilst tending flowers, but it was, for me, the perfect neighbor relationship. We were buddies from a distance.

But sadly, Shirley moved to another part of town (the dreaded West Graham). And I immediately began to worry about who'd be taking her place. I think the main thing I was worried about was someone who'd decide that next-door neighbors had to be next-door friends as well. And why I worried about this, I've no idea. Let's face it, I'm the original Nobody-Likes-Me Kid.

And after staying empty for a while, finally the House to the North was sold. And it was a proposition I hadn't considered. It became rental property. And this, my fine friends, is the worst of all worst-case scenarios. Because I've had to worry about my new neighbors on a regular rotating basis. Three times I've had to worry about my new neighbors, and three times I've ended up, well, not happy.

And that's a shame really, and as stated above, I'm willing to admit that the first two bouts of unhappiness were my fault.

The first of the three new neighbors were a family, a young family, a mom, dad, and boy of about 5. And I didn't like them right off the bat for one simple reason - they didn't wave to me. Sure, I didn't want anything to do with them, but that first day when they were moving in and I was watering the flowers, I waved to the mom, and her reaction to this caught me quite by surprise. To my wave, she promptly threw her nose into the air, turned her head sideways, and walked inside her new abode.

Now, I realize that my reaction to this should have been, "Yeeee-ha! I have neighbors who want nothing to do with me!" And yet somehow that just pissed me off. They did leave me blissfully alone, and they were ideal neighbors save for the fact that they apparently didn't know how to respond to a friendly wave, plus the fact that for a family with two drivers they had upwards of five cars, which they parked everywhere, even in their yard. But who's complaining, right? I mean, besides me.

Then one day, I noticed a distinct lack of cars at the House to the North, and it took me about a week to realize they had in fact moved along somewhere else, just like the ducks and the Dorito bags. And Shirley's house (for it will always be Shirley's house to me) was empty again.

It didn't take too long for the next new neighbors to arrive. And to be honest with you, I just never figured that conglomeration out. That was the first thorn I decided to stick in my side. At first, there was just a man there. Then one day I noticed there was a man, a woman, and a little girl. Then I noticed there was a man and woman with no little girl. Then there was a man. Then there was a man and a woman. The family dynamic seemed to change every two days or so. But hey, they were quiet and never once did they turn their noses upward when I waved. So I was probably unfair to them, too, except they seemed to be the trashiest people on the face of the earth. And I don't mean they were messy or anything, I just mean they set more trash out on garbage day than any people I've ever seen. Furniture, boxes, bags, hardware, all in a gigantic mound in their front yard. They never seemed to bring anything in, but there sure was an outflow of stuff.

And then one day they were gone. And I mean, one day they were gone. It was like they'd been vaporized one night and were no more. And I gave it a slight wonder, at least until the day I got a knock at my door and it was a client of ours at work who owns a loan company. He was looking for them. He was looking for them real bad. And so that kind of cleared up why they might have vaporized into thin air.

And so once again, the House to the North was empty.

And about three to four weeks ago, some strange things started happening. I'd see people occasionally go into or out of the house, as if they were looking at it. But it was still quite empty. Then a couple of times I was disturbed from sleep by car doors and people talking in the house's driveway. It happened twice, and I thought, "There are people using that empty house's driveway for ulterior purposes. I feel there's up-to-no-good going on there," because this was way after midnight, and as we all know, nothing good ever happens after midnight.

Then one Friday evening as I was chilling in my pajamas, I got a ring of the doorbell. There at the door was a girl of about 17, holding a baby. "Yes?" I said. "Is Heather here?" she asked. Now, this struck me as a little odd, because if I personally was going to visit Heather and a 45-year old lady I'd never seen before answered the door in her pajamas, I'd pretty much figure I had the wrong house. But that's just me. I kindly explained that Heather didn't live here, and when she got that look of confusion, I realized that I'll bet Heather lived next door. And I told her to try one house down.

And so began the current odyssey I find myself on.

Who lives in the House to the North now? I do not know. They're young, I can tell you that. For all the comings and goings at that house, and in case you're wondering, there are a lot of those, I've seen no one that looks to be over the age of 20. And that's being generous. From the time I get up in the morning until I go to bed at night, there seems to be no visible signs of life at the house. No car in the driveway, no open door, no people milling around. It's totally deserted.

But go to bed, my friends! Go to bed and see what happens!

It's started as early as 12:30am, and has gone on till at least 4:15. That would be your car door-slamming, voices in the driveway, voices from inside the house, and music. Cars pulling in, cars pulling out. That's the weird thing - at first I was trying to figure it all out and thinking, well, maybe whoever lives there has some kind of night job where they have to leave when I'm in bed. But that's not it, because - they always come back! There I am, lying in bed, praying this will be the night I actually get to sleep quietly, when it happens: 12:45, the door slams and the car starts up and backs out. 1:20 or so, the car pulls in, and the door slams. It's like they go midnight shopping every single night.

Two Fridays ago I was having a really good Chill Night, and between the coffee and movies found myself not turning in till about 3:15. I turned off the lights and climbed into bed, only to hear the thump-thump-thump of music next door. And God forgive me, for I always hated my childhood neighbor Mrs Callahan for this very reason, I had to get up and look. And so I stuck my nose out of the blinds of my bedroom window.

There in the kitchen of the house was a young girl walking around. Not doing anything, just walking around. She'd go in the kitchen, then walk out, then I'd see her walk back in again. I got back into bed and drifted off to sleep and didn't get to see how long she ambled.

Then that next Sunday, which is definitely not Chill Night as I have to go to work the next day, I went to bed around midnight. There was music again, and this time, voices. And after the 1:10am car door slam, I shot out of bed and became Mrs Callahan once again - out my bedroom window blinds popped my nose.

Here's what I saw. Four kids sitting in the kitchen floor. Drinking from cups. Two to a side of the room, facing each other. One was holding a white t-shirt. And they were throwing things at each other. It looked like pieces of plastic. Then occasionally one would become the holder of the t-shirt. Now, at this point I have to admit that as really really fed up as I was becoming with this whole situation, I was quite fascinated by this. Maybe it was some drinking game I'm unaware of, that's entirely possible, but there I stood, in the dark, nose out the blinds, like Margaret Mead discovering some new civilization. It went on indefinitely, and finally I had to try and salvage some sort of sleep out of the night, so I gave it up - after about an hour. Then as I was finally drifting off, I got a nice car door slam to the ear. That was around 2.

I don't really think of myself as a nosey person, although some would disagree, but I've had a look at the house. Not from a walk-around-peek-in-the-windows perspective, but every time I drive by I try to sneak a look. Because of this fact - there's not a stick of furniture in that house! When the girl was walking around, she was walking around an empty kitchen. When the four were throwing things at each other, the cups were the only domestic items in the room. Unless you consider a t-shirt a domestic item. There's nothing in the living room, and from what I can peek, nothing in the bedroom that's visible from the road.

What the hell is going on here?

As I write this, the house is empty. No cars, no people. No lights. No music. But I can guarantee that when 1am comes and I'm nestled in my newly-mattressed comfy bed, all those will appear.

And frankly, folks, I think this is going to drive me insane. I see myself, six months from now, sitting curled up in my bedroom, which is lit only by a naked lightbulb, writing in my 27th composition book: "Thursday, Feb 23d. Arrived, 1:17am, two car door slams, male voices. Music for 21 minutes. One car door slam. Backing out. Car arrives back, 2:01am. One car door slam." And then I'll go and clean my bathroom floor with a toothbrush. And something about that prospect scares me just the least little bit.

My only hope is that one night they will vaporize into thin air. I keep a good thought for this, as I know it can happen.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners here, get your red-hot acrowinners! So, where did I get off not having Picture Sunday?
- Honorable Mention goes to LilyG with her "Eventually, she insipidly took shitty images." (Finally - at last someone tells the truth!)
- Runner-up goes to Krizzer with her "Eat shit! It totally sucks, imageless!" (Finally - at last someone has the nerve to tell me to eat shit!)
- And this week's Winner goes to Michelle with her "Egads, schiksa! It's totally selfish! Ingrate." (Finally - someone calls me schiksa!)
* Someone please help me - I'm a crazy person magnet! Aaaarrrrrrrrggghhhhh!