Hello Gentle Reader,
How are you this night? I am... a bit restless and fearing that a night of no-sleeping is ahead of me. I believe this to be my near fate because I slept in like a beast this morning.
I have been feeling generally a little off-kilter today because I have a few decisions to make and I seem to be at a crossroads or two in a couple of areas of my life. I need to do some things and I'm just not sure which way to go on some of these issues. These are not devastating things, but my current dilemmas are things like this:
What should I do with my house? Should I keep it or sell it? Should I stay here or move? What the hell am I doing in Louisiana, when I absolutely loathe heat and humidity? What is the meaning of life? Where is my beautiful house? Where is my beautiful wife? Why was David Byrne's suit so big?
Ya know. That sort of stuff.
I have a lot to do and no desire to do any of it. This could just be a hormonal moment happening here. I may be on top of the world tomorrow. That's how I roll.
Instead of contemplating the abyss, I think I'll rant about my yard-troll neighbor, Dave. That's right, I used his name.
Dave needs his ass whipped. He is the idiot who used to overcharge me to cut my lawn and he finally went on strike and refused to cut the yard anymore because I refused to pay him 40 bucks for a week when he did not cut my yard. He went on vacation and thought I should pay him for that week even though he didn't cut the grass. Fat chance of that happening, but dream on Sparky.
Anyways... he has been a petty bitch for years and he continues to be one today. Here's what we have going on now: First you should know that this ass-clown built the fence of his yard 4 feet onto my property. I could make him take his fence down if I wanted to. This is what he's working towards. He just doesn't know it yet.
So Foolio places his trash can at the end of his driveway, but still on my property. One day, Myra found a grimey, kid sized sock that did not belong to us, laying in our driveway and she tossed it into Dave's trash can, so there would not be apparent trash laying about the place. Later, she found the same sock, stretched out onto our driveway where Dave had placed it, to let us know that there will be absolutely NO tossing even a TINY scrap of garbage into HIS garbage can. I'm not sure how this unauthorized sock of doom really affected Dave's quality of life, or why he has nothing better to do than monitor his trash can, but that's what the silly bitch did.
Myra thought he laid the sock out for us, as a kindness... thinking we had accidentally thrown it away. She could not comprehend that someone would dig a sock out of their trash to prove a spiteful point. She hasn't known Dave as long as I have.
So yesterday, Myra's son came in saying that Dave had just ordered him to reach into his cigarette butt container and fish out any bits of garbage he may have thrown in it. This prize can of Dave's is a 5 gallon bucket that he fills up with stinking cigarette butts. I hope he's not going for some kind of guiness world record for "most cigarette butts a redneck can save up".
Anyways... the kid has recently thrown some trash into this bucket, because well, it's on our property, it looks like a trash can, and he was conscientious enough to put his garbage in a trash can instead of dropping it on the ground. His good citizenship was considered by Dave to be an insane, gross abuse of a cigarette butt collection, by an unruly, renegade garbage tosser! He demanded that the kid dig in his DNA infested redneck can of stink to retrieve trash items instead of just dumping out his trash can like a normal human being would have done.
My official comment on this topic was "Fuck Dave." That is what I said to Myra. I told the kid not to dig in that nasty can and reminded him that he does not take his orders from Dave. So now, Dave is apparently not speaking to us.
I consider this a bonus.
Dave has stopped speaking to me many, many times over the years. I treat him exactly the same when he is speaking as when he is not speaking. I pretty much ignore him most of the time. I don't give a rats ass about Dave's latest hissy fit, but it is kind of funny to see how far he will go to do something stupid. How ridiculous can one bitter little yard troll get?
Just for shits and giggles, I ought to toss a whole sack of garbage into his trash can, or drop an orange peel on his driveway. He'd probably aspirate on his own spit during the spinning episode of accidental break-dancing that would take hold of his wee stunted body.
What an entertaining putz.