Neighbors and Religious Zealots

I have new neighbors.

Yes, I know, uck.

Especially when my previous neighbor was a nice octogenarian whose most annoying attribute was that he seemed to constantly be raking and maintaining his yard because he had lots of time on his hands. He was quiet and never once complained that we were making noise, kept to himself, mostly, but was pleasant, well mannered and interesting.  So Jon and I were both sad when we realized he had died.

So far the Replacement Neighbors are fairly quiet and keep to themselves....if I ignore the bit where they tried to convert the neighborhood to whatever religion they practice.  Yep. Knocking on doors with literature. Sorry. Go away. If you want to come over and knock on my door, then fine. Introduce yourselves and say hello...don't try make me a part of your religious quota.

And yes, The Replacements have three cars with a large two car garage and yet, none of the cars manage to park in the garage. Weird, but I really don't care that much about that. What DOES annoy me is The Replacements are constantly turning around at the end of MY driveway when turning around in their OWN driveway should be sufficient since only one vehicle parks in the driveway so they have plenty of space in which to turn.

So I have been parking lengthwise across the driveway behind Jon's Jeep. Yes, that's right. NO ONE is parking in my driveway, not even ME because I am irritated that The Replacements don't want to maintain their own driveway to the point that they have decided they can only turn around in mine.  I bet The Replacements won't get the hint...but hey, its that or I make my own tire spikes from a two by four and some 6 inch spikes...and that's really inconvenient because I'd have to move it every time I left the house or arrived home. 

An automatic gate would really be ideal...but I don't have the money for that, and would definitely take the gate and the opener with me if I ever manage to move away from the too many people.

___________________________________________________________

Jon stopped to help a man in a disabled vehicle that was blocking a busy stretch of Beech Daly yesterday.  The man immediately asked him if he was a Christian. Jon said "No."  The man then, while fiddling with his battery cable, proceeded to ask "Do you know Jesus is the Savior?" Why not a simple, "thank you for stopping to help"?  The car started, it WAS a loose battery cable, but why not just thank someone for offering assistance instead of asking about religion?  People are so weird.

______________________________________________________

All I can get out of all the crazy zealots lately is that Jon and I must look like we are going to hell. Ah, oh well. At least we try to be good people and not be hypocrites.  Also, if we are required to convert a certain number of people to make it into heaven, maybe we don't want to go there anyway. I have enough quotas and standards at work to need them in my afterlife.

Stealing Copper/Amish Population

Really boring day off with me sleeping 9 hours due to menstral cramps, popping meds for the cramps, the exhaustion that goes along with it and mowing the in-laws' yard and earning $20...and being alone.  I never see Jon anymore. He's always at work...or I am.  Then Jon comes home for an hour, we eat something tasty then he informs me he's heading to his other mistress, Shane's house.  Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't really care, but hey, I've seen the man a total of one hour a day all week...and yesterday was his day off, during which he changed the oil in my engine but I saw him....maybe 5 hours all told as he was running  errands and such and talking to his mom. (I don't mind sharing him with his mom, she's going through something and I'm not sure what.)

Then I go outside once he leaves to dump some trash in the recycle bin and a guy walks over.

"Hi. I'm Jerry. Jerry's son." He indicates the nice house next door that's been empty since March. "Someone broke in and stole the plumbing out of the basement, did you see anything?"

Oh, shit. My blood just runs cold.  "No, no, I didn't.  That's awful."

We have a brief conversation in which I promise to call the cops if I see anything suspicious at all. I verified that the realtor drives a blue GMC SUV and that the kid that mows the lawn has a white glass repair van. I already knew that this Jerry is driving his dad's special black Caddy we nicknamed the Batmobile before he died.  That old man was soooo excited to get that car, he acted like a ten year old and it has so many gadgets on it (Old Jerry explained them to us in great detail) that it really was the Batmobile, at least to us poor folk.

I come back inside and phone Jon.

He HAS seen something over there.  Two guys in an escort messing with the central air.  I keep him on the line and hand him to Jerry. They talk.

And I am alone again. Waiting for Jon to come home.  I don't feel safe here.  A few months ago the neighbor girl's car was stolen.  Now, the other neighbor's plumbing a/c and furnace coils have been stolen...probably, all while we were home.  And we are the house in the middle.  I've always thought we have nothing really worth stealing.  But, then, we do have plumbing, cars, and a furnace.  And we'd be crippled if any of those things went missing or broken.

I want out of this neighborhood.  No down payment, no nothing.  And probably no one would want to buy this crap shack with its shaky plumbing and other issues--most of them less serious.  Plus, we'd have to sell it to be able to move elsewhere....leaving it vulnerable to break-ins. 

Sigh. I hate being ghetto adjacent.  Three years ago, we weren't ghetto adjacent.  Now, however, we are.

This sounds better.

I want to go back to my roots.  Funny, Jon prefers my roots even those these urban roots are his.  He'd rather live with the cornfields and the cows than the people.

Too many people, too much anonymity.  I lived in a very small community. When someone was robbed, there was an 80 percent chance someone recognized the culprit.  Why?  Because to know where we lived and to know our habits, you had to frequent the area.  And country people don't miss too much. They know each other's cars, work habits and just patterns in general.  When someone suspected something wrong, you'd get a direct phone call or a visit...and that neighbor would be toting some sort of firearm--just in case.  Why? Because it the sheriff managed to find the address--an hour later (it would take about that long for them to drive there)  it would be too late to do much good. 

My family unfortunately had some experience with the county sheriff taking forever and my dad arming himself and me with various guns while we were waiting and the culprits were running about the area near our house after wrecking their truck into the ditch next to our driveway.  Scary shit.  All while the corn was 10 feet tall..impossible to know where the bad guys were. Of course, they got away, but dad wasn't leaving us unarmed either.

Maybe I'll get really lucky and a cyclone will transport my house and its contents safely to a rather uninhabited area just like the Land of Oz.


Unrelated side note from back home:  Amish in the U.S. 
For the uninitiated, a "large" family for the Amish is at least 5 children...usually more like 8.  But, hey, for all their inhumane treatment of their own family members, animals, and such, I never once caught any of them stealing copper plumbing. They DO commit crimes, mostly against each other.  Weird, but true.

 I'd still like to introduce a bunch of Amish into Detroit and see if they could turn the city into a big desolate farm. I really think they could. And I really think it would be an improvement.  Maybe it would be a public service: Amish in Da Hood!

The game of life

    The children of my neighbor who died are going to sell his house. Yep.  I know this because a concrete leveling crew has been outside all morning working on his driveway.  I am not happy about this; I was quite fond of the nice old man who knew everyone else's business while appearing, at least, to mind  his own.  He never once called the cops on us for illegal bonfires or general rowdiness, or because the dogs were barking.  So this is not good news. We could get saddled with some real stinkers  such as people with horribly annoying children, in which case, the backyard will be totally dead to me.  Which is sad because I like being outside.  On the bright side, maybe they won't be able to sell it.  But there is no way I can get out of my mortgage since we have too many broken things to fix ourselves and little capital.
     I am off work for three whole days.  What shall I do? No idea.  I think I am going to saunter outside in a bit and work on my leaves. They are mostly all down now.  I haven't had time to deal with them.  So I think I shall chew them all up into mulch.  My neighbors all do that "town thing" where they rake the leaves, then laboriously shove them into giant paper bags, then let them sit until trash day for the guys in the landscape trash truck to pick up and hope that it doesn't rain and turn the bags into mush.  I did that one year. Never EVER again.  What a mess, and what a lot of work.  So much easier to mulch the leaves up then use them as compost.
   Jon has the car, so no excitement there, as he has to work two of the days I am off.  And Ruth went to visit her family, which is awesome for her.  I kind of wish I could have tagged along, but then again, I am not privy to the arrangements and don't want to be an inconvenience. I would, however, like to go to the UP with Ruth someday.  So I shall see Ruth probably on Tuesday when Jon is always scheduled to work 2 hours before I am so I use Ruth's house as a kind of crash pad and we visit, which is soooooo nice.
    I got paid so I bought doggie vittles and kitty/bunny litter and booze.  Yep. A whole fifth of blueberry vodka just for me.  I drank a bit last night. Winter and crazy holiday customers always set me to drinking.  I hate being cold and I also hate feeling annoyed.  Booze helps. Now if we only could take to sipping from flasks at work, I wouldn't feel like I should bash customers in the head with the ITEM OF THE MONTH....ugh.  No wonder those ucky shopping mall Santas always seem to smell of whiskey.  If I got peed on, kicked, drooled on, screamed at and etc. by people's brat kids, I'd drink heavily allllll day long.  Brat kids are an epidemic in this nation. My parents NEVER let me act like the average kid today.  Scream in a store?  NEVER!!!!  That just meant you left the store and went home and no more fun.
    Dogs are still itchy from fleas.  I bought the drops and all animals (except bunny who doesn't seem particularly susceptible to fleas) are treated and I thoroughly vacuumed/washed things and even put salt under the bed, on the dog beds, and on the couches and such but new fleas are hatching. How do I know they are new fleas, you ask? They are ever so much tinier than their predecessors.  So I guess I am making some progress, its just slow.  So I imagine another vacuum,wash and salt day is in my future.
    My Aunt Nita invited me to Turkey Day at her place.  Man, I really would love to go. I hate retail.  I HAVE to work Black Friday, no exceptions.  Wouldn't be so much of an issue if I didn't live 5 hours away. Five hours doesn't sound like much until you pile into a car for 5 hours, eat dinner, then pile into a car for another five hours then go to work.  Plus, I imagine Jon will be working. Maybe we can arrange something with Ruth and Joe again.   I have it easy though, Ruth drives something like 12 hours to see her family...one way. 
    I should get dressed. I have been lounging in pajamas for three hours or so now.  Stupid sinus headache woke me up early.  House is a shambles as well...amazing how dirty it gets when we're only home to sleep and leave again.  It's Jon's turn to do the dishes, which means, of course, they are ALL dirty.  I  like to do them more often when there are less of them.  He likes to let them pile so it takes an hour or more.  Oh well, I'm not doing them.