As I'm sure you've gathered, I'm completely pissed off about the "maintenance" situation next door. Upkeep, people! Upkeep! Get the crap off the front porch, take care of the freakin' place, and stop dragging down my property value by allowing every single bit of carefully placed landscaping to die. All members of this family look healthy enough. Pull a weed, already, and turn on a sprinkler, jackasses! Grrrrrrr! (Tea. I need tea. Licorice tea, and a long, long spell in savasana while listening to a baroque station in iTunes radio.)
I just fantasized this conversation. "PFND" means "person from next door". "Me" means, well, me.
PFND: "Looks like you have been working on your back yard."
Me: "Yes, we have."
PFND: "What are those things you have hanging from the tree limbs?"
Me: "The green things? Oh, those are little mobiles made from the bottoms of old soda bottles. One uses Pringle lids as spacers."
PFND: "Where did you find that idea?"
Me: "The internet. But I was actually inspired by other things."
PFND: "Like what?"
Me: "TRASH! FUCKING TRASH! We cannot get rid of our trash because of your lazy ass and evident apathy towards the sinking snake den that used to be the access path you or your excuse for a landlord are supposed to be maintaining, asshole. It has to stay until we figure out a way to get it out of the back damned yard without incurring substantial bodily harm. SO I AM MAKING YARD ART OF THE TRASH, dickweed! Capice?"
No comments:
Post a Comment