Here I sit, with Emma finally taking a nice nap, smelling BBQ (gross, when its not your own food) and hearing my neighbors start to get sloshed. I know that they have every right to get trashed on their deck, BBQ and smoke cigars, but its all the time. It starts off innocently enough, but once the sun sets, he lights up the chimenea with 2x4's and gets louder and louder. Last time, it was 2:30am when they finally shut up. I dread it, especially since my darling husband HATES airconditioning, and likes to have the windows open at night. Problem is, when we have our windows open, is always when they are out there. John can turn them off, but I can't. The chiminea makes my entire house smell like it did when I would have to go to camp Saginaw for Band camp (and no... nothing like that happened at Band Camp, except for the preachers daughter getting caught doing "stuff" with the workers). Everyone keeps telling me to call the cops, and Lord knows that I want to, but that isn't my style. I know that my other neighbors have called on them, but I'm sure I got the blame for that.
I can't wait for John to get home. He keeps my mind off things.
Good news for me, is that once we get the house fixed up, we are going to put it up for sale. I really don't want to raise Emma (and any future children) around these kinds of people (the kind that use their child's birthday as an excuse to have a huge drunk fest), and all of the dog sh*t all over. The dog poo is from all my other neighbors. I've never looked forward to spending so much money in my life! I do like the girls across the street, and the people on the other side of me. Its just amazing how a few people can make a place that you loved so much at one time, seem like a torture chamber.
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