By – Blissimo. Visit The Tail End of Life for original post.
Despite some of you playing the new fun internet game of “guess how this picture ties in with what Biss is writing about,” this is not a blog post detailing how I am a horses ass . . . at least not intentionally. If I do my job well today I am hoping you will join with me in saying my neighbour is one.
I am pretty sure I am awesome. I mean I like hanging out with me. What’s not to love about me?
Even if none of that is true, I kind of appreciate that most days I am allowed to seep in my delusions, without any interruptions from some bratty kid/brother/adult who is telling on you or telling you what you should be doing and how if you keep doing “that” you are going to end up just like your Aunt Judy. (note: NEVER interrupt the parent telling you that by insisting that you actually admire Aunt Judy, and she seems to be a lot more balanced and happy than the person lecturing you does. Some enlightenment tidbits are best kept to yourself. They are stardust sprinkles just for you!)
Mostly I just do me and am never forced to confront any issues with that whole process. There has to be some blessings from becoming a complete recluse (that is the term people like me use to describe ourselves – it actually means a person that no-one else can stand and so no-one wants to hang with you any way.)
Well didn’t that just go to hell in a handbasket today?? I mean my being alone and being fine.
We have been blessed to be without neighbours for quite some time. Having new ones is a great imposition on us and I have to say I think more people should just get used to losing money on houses they invest in and not make having them rented out the holy grail of happiness. They should appreciate small things … like how nice the “for rent” sign looks in the yard, and how it complements the colours of the house. Or that the house is always neat and tidy and they won’t have to paint it all the time, or have the carpets cleaned, or go through all the nastiness of inspecting it and evicting tenants. That kind of peace of mind is gold!
AND, if you have to have neighbours, they should either build some kind of fence or laser field to protect you from having to see their actions OR reactions. I can see eyes roll from about 1.8 miles away. It really hurts my feelings and I am getting older and pretty soon now people need to start caring about my feelings and responding to me like they do to fluffy kitties and cute puppies and baby ducks.
There I was just grooving to some of my iTune collections, “shuffling” my way through my priceless, decades old collections and feeling the musical journey I was on and I realized the neighbours had dropped their drinks from their hands and were looking over towards our house, horrified. This was brought to my attention because I heard glass breaking, followed by, “OH. MY. GOD!!” Of course I immediately assumed that their God had landed on my roof which was the only plausible explanation one could reach from the clues they provided. What else could it have been?
They quickly gathered up their things and rushed into the house, leaving me to logically believe a couple more things. 1. They were in big trouble with their God, being as they were running to hide from him/her/it, and 2. Yet again, no-one had bothered telling me about any impending Second Coming or rapture, and I was clearly still not invited.
I immediately started scouring the internet for some feel good posters about how people who are not raptured are actually the most special people and we should all just “let it go.” (in this case, it would be “let them go.”) Then I called to make sure my kids were all still home. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel really happy about that in that they were still here or really crappy, as in I obviously sucked at being a good mom and they were going to go to hell with me.
But then later that afternoon I overheard the woman talking on the phone to someone and she said, “Nothing says Sunday morning like listening to a bunch of seniors next door rocking it to some lame song with the lyrics “get yourself a bad boy.” Seriously, some old lady singing along with ” If you like it innovative, better get someone creative honey, and if you want it to be jammin’, gotta get somebody slammin’ baby .” EWWWWWWWWW!” And then there was a bunch of laughing. Then she flipped back her two toned hair and tossed her head and rolled her eyes.
She couldn’t see me, but I flipped her the bird.
I looked at my Backstreet Boys poster and wept … for a kinder time …. and more understanding neighbours. A.J still had fresh lipstick smudges, that I wiped away with a bit of tissue, before I blew my nose.
I hate young people.
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