Neighbors

 I have some neighbors that annoy me. At least they annoy me if I let them.

Kelly alluded to it on her blog, so I felt it necessary to elaborate, if only to clear up my as-of-yet immaculate blogosphere reputation.

The house we live in was built 11 years ago. I worked with an architectural firm for 3 or 4 months designing it to be exactly what I wanted and needed. Custom designed from top to bottom to meet my physical needs as well as what I perceived to be my healthy sanity needs at the time. Let’s face it; living with your family creates some interesting circumstances that needed to be thought out carefully. I tried to take those things into consideration as well. Anyway, as such, the house is a fair size for the area, and because of it, I pay more than my share of property taxes.

The block that I used to live on in my parent’s house was great. Everyone talked, had coffee, borrowed each others tools, and helped each other build things. It was great. And everyone kept their property up and took pride in their home.

Most of my neighbors here are great. My next door neighbor Mark in particular is a super guy. We help each other out lot. He’s the kind of guy that will knock on my door after going on fishing trip and hand me 4 rainbow trout. Or climb on my roof and clean out my gutters; just because he knows it needs doing and I can’t do it. A great guy. But for the most part, people on this block just wave and nod at each other. There is no real connection any more. Maybe that’s just the times.

Now I know every block in any city has its characters, I expect that, and that is ok. This block is no exception. Everyone is nice and cordial and we all get along. It’s the little things that get to me.

We have the barking dog family. We have back neighbors that are extremely loud and make it near impossible to enjoy the back yard.  We have the busybody who blames every bad smell on my composter. And we have the NASCAR fan.

The NASCAR fan lives across the street. Nice house, keeps it pretty tidy. But he gets on my nerves. In his driveway, all summer, he has a boat on a trailer, parked next to a pop-up camper trailer, which is popped up most of the time. These are not beside the house, they are right out front. He then spends most weekends with beer in hand, standing in the driveway conversing loudly with a buddy or on the phone, vulgar expletives included.  To add the fun, he has a stereo in the garage which he tunes to country music, or, if the race is on, NASCAR coverage. Loud enough for me to hear clearly of course. Sometimes from my back yard.

I want to tell him I don’t like country music. I want to tell him I hate hearing NASCAR coverage on the radio. I want to tell him that his front yard is not a campground and that I resent having to look at it while paying my ridiculously high taxes. But I don’t. I sit here, and stew. And try live and let live.

Tonight I tried a different approach. Kelly and I were playing a game of Super Mastermind on the deck out back. Super Loud back neighbor was at her best. I decided to try pretending I liked her. That we were friends. Somehow it made it easier to tolerate her irritating voice. I could almost stand to listen to her inane ramblings and expletives. A little better. A little.

So maybe next time NASCAR fan leaves the door open on his van and it’s about to rain, maybe I’ll go over myself and tell him. Heck maybe I’ll even bring him a beer and we can watch the storm roll in together with a little Willie Nelson on the radio.  What the heck, wouldn’t kill me right? Might be good for my stress too.

Ones thing is for sure. Mark, the neighbor who brings me fish, he’s getting a pie soon.