This sporadically scheduled blog is interrupted to bring you some breaking news. I repeat, I interrupt this post to bring you a different post. My other story will have to wait until next week.
I don’t always post all of my comments. If someone somehow reads my blog and finds it offensive or attacks me, I read it, respond to them privately (usually unless they play the coward card and comment anonymously) and move on with my life. Recently someone read my post about the Village that lives above me and called me racist.
I did not respond to it so I will now.
Dear reader, if you are still out there, looking for ways to condemn me, let me say thank you for taking the time to read ONE post in which I stated the TRUTH about the morons who lived around me. If you really knew me you’d know I’m not at all racist. I am however, blunt. The only thing I did was to write about what went on in my building. If you can’t comprehend this, then let me just add this: the blog is titled “THAT’S NOT APPROPRIATE” meaning, that possibly, what I’m writing isn’t going to fly well with all of the PC crap out there now. In conclusion to your condemnation, I say, I calls ’em like I sees ’em.
Last night a friend came over to play guitar, more on my bands later (yes, I am in two: Sticker Monkey and the BEETles. We only play private parties.) We decided to go get something to eat so as we’re walking out, I stopped dead in my tracks, horrified at what lay before me. On my front porch, there was a three-inch puddle of fresh vomit. Apparently the puker had hot dogs because that’s all it was. On one of the steps was an even more massive puddle of chewed up hot dogs and milky tan spittle. This had to be a kid. We came back and I washed the vomit into the bushes, ants and all.
This was just one more incident that happened because of the village. I made a mental note to text the landlord one of my many texts that always begins like this:
“Can you please tell the people upstairs….”
But I didn’t and night turned into morning. I stepped out to take Yadi for her morning poopy walk and saw that the parking spaces in front of my house were blocked off and in front of them was a U-Haul truck. Great. More neighbors. Another chance at being annoyed by bad behavior. We finished our walk and went inside.
I sat down on the couch and heard shuffling coming from upstairs. It sounded like someone was wrestling a baby elephant.
I felt a little excited butterflies begin to stir in my stomach. My brain was doing the math:
U-Haul truck + THUMP. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. = NEIGHBORS MUST BE MOVING OUT!
Whoa. Down girl. Let’s not get too excited. They, being the village that they are, and already having at least six people in a two bedroom apartment, might be moving someone in. Maybe a grandmother. Or a grandfather. Or a second cousin once removed who didn’t have a green card. Or all of the above.
I got up and went to the front door, parted the mini-blinds and looked out. And there, struggling to move an unbelievably large mattress down the steps, was the UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR!
YAY! I have envisioned this moment and hoped for it for so long and now it’s happening!
No more finding motor oil bottles in my freshly washed sheets in the basement!
No more oompa music from speakers right below my bedroom window!
No more tuba lessons in the backyard!
No more party remains left in the back for days, drawing bugs, rats and possibly even city raccoons!
No more little kids peering into my windows to make Yadi bark!
No more twelve SUVs taking up every parking space in front of the house!
No more missing laundry detergent!
No more unidentified socks showing up in my laundry!
No more second-hand smoke drifting up from the basement!
No more front bushes being used as a trash can for empty beer cans!
No more dirty diapers left on the steps!
No more hot dogs puked on the front porch for me to clean up!
Yes indeedy, today…..my new, Village Free life begins…..
(Insert Hallelujah chorus here)