Sometimes I’m certain that my life is just circular. For the last week or so the neighbor’s place has been like Santa’s workshop, whirling and buzzing with activity. Why there was even a truckload of Hispanic day workers over there doing something in the back yard. I found this particularly amusing knowing that the wife is afraid of really just a racist, bigoted NIMBY bitch Hispanic day workers. Then last night he comes over to announce that they have listed their house and it goes on the market today. I know the reason is two fold and doesn’t have much to do with me, well maybe a little. It has more to do with the crazy, bipolar Irish (was that redundant?) lady on the other side. And the fact that they don’t have a Clayton address and Concord is so pedestrian to her. On one side I say good riddance, but the other side knows that if they really do sell it, even though it’s grossly over priced, the new neighbors could be worse. I know this. But they didn’t list it with me and they know what I do for a friggin’ living. So when he told me that last night I had some choices. I chose to wish them luck. And I was going to get out the weed whacker last night, but I chose not to. And that was the right choice because they were on broker’s tour this morning. I doubt anyone saw their house through all of my weeds. And yes, I did stand on the porch and holler to one of my buddies to be sure everyone looked up and saw the weeds.
Holla back, y’all. Yep, they’re up to the bumper of his truck. Next plan of action is the get out the weed whacker on Sunday afternoon. Because that’s when the open house will be. Oh yeah, I made sure the dogs were running in the yard when the broker’s tour was at the house. Passive aggressive you have a name and it was Wine Dog today. I don’t care if they actually sell or not. I don’t care what they sell for either. Actually I’d be happier if it didn’t sell right now. Then I could shake my head and tsk tsk, that’s too bad it didn’t sell. Because it was chicken shit to not give me a chance to pitch it, and it was chicken shit to tell me the night before it went on. And chicken shit begets chicken shit. With a side of passive aggression, which by the way is best when fully embraced. You see if someone is passive aggressive and doesn’t understand that they are doing it, they have no power. The power comes from the knowledge.
And I know the new neighbors could be worse. I’d rather take a less then perfect known than gamble on what could be. What if I get a nut case that wants to complain or cause problems over the dogs? What if one of those fresh young couples buys it. You know the ones who think all of heaven and earth should stop moving simply because they bore children? The ones that think their little snots will be the next Captains of Industry when we all know they’re the next dope addicts who we’ll have to pay for their rehab 50 times before they finally OD. And they’ll be afraid of my dogs and cause me problems because their little snots are the most precious little shits that ever plopped out on the face of the earth. So with that in mind, the racist, bigoted NIMBY ain’t so bad. She is, of course a good Christian lady who is opposed to all things that her racist bigoted NIMBY church says she should be opposed to. (That’s what the Pastor gets for delivering “Yes on 8” signs) They are what is wrong with the church in it’s current configuration. They are why when asked what he had against converting to Christianity Gandhi said:
“Oh, I don’t reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It’s just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ.”