Our Nappy Neighbors

I have complained many a time about our Nappy Neighbors. Sometimes they just drive me crazy. This is what their front lawn looked like for about a month:

I think they have a project in mind for all of that wood. After weeks of rain and snow, they finally put the wood into their basement. I saw 'em. I'm like the Gladys Kravitz of my neighborhood. I see all. I saw my across-the-street neighbor (whom I think is a lesbian) mow her lawn, then unceremoniously dump her clippings onto the lawn of the house next door. The house is vacant right now - the owner is trying to sell it. He doesn't live there, so he didn't see her do it. When he came over the other day to mow the lawn, I saw him scratching his head when he saw all the clippings on his lawn. I was sorely tempted to tell him what I saw. And to write a note to the lesbian and say, "I know what you did last week." And write it in scary writing.



I deviate.



Back to the Nappy Neighbors. So - they finally put their dang wood into their basement. But the rest of the junk is all over their front lawn, which is normal for them. I don't know if they're hoarders, if they're just too busy to clean up their stuff, if they start projects and don't finish them, or what. But I've seen the inside of their house, and you can't see the floor. The inside of their house definitely looks like the insides of those houses on that Hoarding show. But you never know.



Along with the rain and snow has come much wind. And since they have garbage all over their property, it blows all over our lawn. Which is special. The other day, I had to throw some stuff that blew into our yard back into their yard, and I saw a really large plastic storage bin underneath one of the eaves of their house. It is full of Christmas lights, and the lid isn't on. All of the water from the rain and the snow has dripped from the eave right into this bin of Christmas lights. So it's Christmas lights that are underwater. So there goes like $100 of Christmas lights. I just don't get it.



They had a big project two weeks ago. There is a large hedge of bushy elm trees that seperates our property from theirs. They decided to trim their side of the trees. And the enormous branches (they really butchered these trees) are still all over their back lawn. They chuck their garbage into the general direction of our shared dumpster in the alley, and they don't use normal garbage bags. Some grocery bags, some old McDonald's bags... Because they throw garbage into the general direction of the dumpster, instead of lifting the lid and putting it in, their junk that doesn't get into the dumpster sits in the alley and blows into our section of the alley. It drives me bonkers.



They have two really mean, antisocial dogs. They let their dogs out the front door to go potty, and the dogs do their thing in our yard about 99% of the time. I've had to pick up poop with a grocery bag several times. I'm sorely tempted to put a bag of poop onto their front porch, but I'm too chicken. They'll know who it's from. But at the same time, we know who the poop presents are from, you know? One of the dogs has something going on down in his...nethers. Um, it looks like he has a ball the size of a coconut hanging from between his legs. It's soooo gross. Once, Ben asked the Nappy Neighbors what was going on with their dogs' testicles. He didn't even say hi first. Just asked point-blank. (He doesn't have that filter in his brain that says, "Wait, say this nicely." Or, "At least say hello first.") They said, "Oh, he just has some kind of infection." This poor dog has had this... enlarged ball... for like a year. I've also been sorely tempted to call the humane society on them. Or animal control. Or whoever takes care of neglected dogs.



Their kids... It's getting better. We had to kind of teach them manners. Like, "No, it's not okay to stare into our windows while we eat dinner." "It's not okay to push down a two-year-old." "It's not okay to try to break our lock so that you can get some toys from inside our house while we're gone." I kid you not. Those are just thre of the issues we've had to address. Oh, another one: "It's not okay for a nine-year-old to punch a five-year-old." I've had to mother them a lot, which is one of my pet peeves. Both parents work, and the kids are often left by themselves at home for eight hours at a time. If one of the kids fell down while riding his bike and scraped himself, he would ring my doorbell while my baby was sleeping and ask me for a band-aid. They always ask me for food. I'm not very nice. I tell them to get band-aids at their own house and to go find food at their own house. I've been tempted many times to call CPS, as well. Things have been better since September, though. The kids are all in school all day, and on school breaks, the parents have been taking the kids to family members' houses to get baby-sat. I wonder if someone else had called CPS on them like a year ago or something, so they're trying to be good.



There are little glimmers of humanity from the Nappy Neighbors, though. When it snowed a few weeks ago, I was out shoveling so that Micah's poor therapist, who is like eighty years old, could walk safely to our front steps. Nappy Neighbor Mom came out to go to work, and she said, "Get back inside! You shouldn't be shoveling!" And she sent her son over to shovel our walks.

And then, the other day, I was doing dishes (I spend 99% of my time doing dishes, I swear), and I saw this through my kitchen window:

Their daughter was helping Sadie to ride her bike. Sades cannot figure out how to keep pedaling. She stops pedaling, and then the wheels lock up. I've been too tired and too sick to help coach her. I thought it was so sweet of that little girl to help her out.

So maybe they ain't so bad after all.

If you want to read a couple of past adventures in Nappy Neighbor Land, here ya go:

1. Ashlynn staring into our windows, throwing mud into Sadie's mouth, screaming at me, and licking our windows. That's right. LICKING OUR WINDOWS.

2. Ashlynn spreading Country Crock onto her front porch railings. And me not saying one word about it to her or to her mother. Because I'm vindictive like that.