The rant about the neighbor

You'll read this and go, "yeah, that's Laura." I'm not sure if that's a good thing, though.

I wanted to bring you up to speed on a past promised blog post. So, our neighbor. He's one of two people I loathe (not hate, but loathe). The German has a thick accent and has his property all buttoned up complete with lots of fences, blinds and no one ever (and I mean ever) goes outside. Another neighbor has told me that he doesn't allow his wife to drive, too. Although, that's just hearsay.

On that note, though: He has five cars. Five. And do you think they all fit in his driveway? No. 


That same neighbor who I mentioned earlier has a few bird feeders in their front yard. It's quite nice to hear the chirping, but not so nice to see blobs of white and blue poo all over my black car. Except, I don't really let that bother me.

Our German friend across the street, however, does. So, he parks three cars in his driveway, one in front of our driveway across the street and the other in front of our house. Just typing that last clause raised my blood pressure by a few ticks. He thinks he owns the neighborhood, so he can do whatever his big pot-bellied, hair-chested brain wants. (And trust me, this is no Santa Claus.)

Well, it happened. I backed out of our driveway, slid on the ice and gently tapped his disgusting Volvo. Then, panicked, I drove away. As I caught my breath, I called my husband to own up to what happened. It appeared that I had woken the cops reporter in him, and he got upset.

"Do you know you could be charged with a hit and run?"

Whoops. Luckily, he quickly scribbled a note and ran outside to drop the note at the scene of the crime. (Phew, disaster and jail time averted.)

Now, I just wait for our rates to go up. In the meantime, I'm parking in his spot.