Monday, May 25, 2009

Life in the Burbs

Reach out and touch someone - but not your next door neighbor. I love my home and my neighborhood - most of the time. Today was the exception. Homes in this area are parked close together like cars in a used car lot. Walls are thin and every house has a screened lanai where most of us relax kick back and argue. Not I - I take it inside and shut all the doors. No dirty laundry here. Some of the neighbors have a different view on hanging out their dirty clothes.
The house directly behind mine has a yappy (non-stop) little mutt. If only his vocal cords would become stretched and unusable. Or lock the little bugger in the garage and maybe the rest of us could have some peace and quiet.
Then, there is the ethnic family to the back right. I say ethnic because they swear and curse in a foreign language. It might be okay to listen but I cannot understand a word they are shouting about. So what's the point? I come inside because they are going full force over something or other and apparently want the whole world to know about the issue.
Over to the back left we have the porta-potty mouths. They scream curse words that I have never even heard of. It also has cars coming and going at all hours of the day and night - and they never stay very long. Quick pick-up of something? Occasionally I hear what I think is a pop like a gun going off. I head inside for cover.
We have the wanna-be race driver around the corner that use the cul-de-sac as a race track. And the business person that keeps a fleet of vehicles at his disposal at all times. It's sort of fun in a perverse sort of way watching the wanna-be race driver making the turn by the parked vehicles.
On the next street over someone is always and forever mowing their lawn. And the lawn service people really like to get that 6:30 AM start on a Saturday morning when the rest of us need their beauty sleep because back left argued all night long and it's hot so my windows were all open.
Across the street dogs bark, cars backfire and the sirens scream through the air polluting my air space. The kid on the skateboard and all his friends urging him on with wild shouts to make that one sweet jump over the garbage cans placed in the middle of the road make me wish I didn't know him but he's mine. It's just a loud noisy place in which to live.

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