Oh my friends, I fear that it will be a long summer. Not because my kids will be out of school, although I’m sure there will be a few days when I’ll be begging for for school to start again, but because the Trashingtons will be home. ALL. DAY. LONG. If the Trashington girls are home, then their douchebag boyfriends will be there, too. I’m learning to tolerate the Trashingtons, but the douchebag boyfriends (DBBFs) are another story entirely.
For the sake of new readers (shut up – there are a few!), let’s recap a little. Casa di Mumma Boo is located in a small town in New England. It’s by no means Norman Rockwell-ville, but it’s not downtown Boston either. We have our local muckety-mucks, (one of our former state governors still resides here), and there are sections where you probably don’t want to be strolling by yourself at night, but, for the most part, we’ve got a good town with a great school system. People take pride in their houses and their yards; they generally don’t put on airs and community involvement is strong. There are the usual town politics, the quintessential sports rivalries, and the expected frustrations that come with living in a small town, but all in all, I’m glad we live here. We have wonderful neighbors on all sides of us, except one.
You know that one house in every neighborhood that you drive past and say, “Yeesh, they really should do something about X, Y, Z” or “How can people live like that”? Yeah, well, in my neighborhood, it’s the Trashingtons’ house and it’s right next door to mine. Since the day they moved in, there has been crap in their yard. Everywhere. Five years ago, they drove up in a rented truck and proceeded to dump all their worldly goods into the driveway and yard. The items that wouldn’t fit inside the house on moving day are still in the yard. Ladders, plastic storage containers, beach towels, sleds, a washing machine – and that’s only a partial list. They’ve completely wrecked the interior of the house – there is plywood over some of the windows, and the kitchen door is barricaded shut.
They have three teenage daughters and two elementary age little boys. The parents expect the teenage daughters to supervise the younger brothers whenever they’re not in daycare or school. Newsflash – the teenage daughters couldn’t care less about properly supervising the younger brothers. They resent the hell out of it and make sure their parents (and the rest of us) know it at top decibel level. The boys run amok in the middle of the road any chance they get. I can’t tell you how many times I or Munky or one of the other neighbors has warned the kids to get out of the road, or marched their unruly little butts back to the house. The Trashingtons decided to put up a fence to help keep the little ones in the yard, but neglected to install it correctly, so there’s an 18 inch gap between where their fence ends and ours begins. And oh yeah, no gate – it’s wide open to the driveway. Smart, huh? The solution to the 18 inch gap? Pile the plastic sleds in front of it and plant a tree that any toddler could snap in two. Frankly, I’m surprised the tree has survived this long. The sleds aren’t doing much good either, unless you count providing a fantastic breeding pool for the mosquito population. (Which, for the record, I don’t count. Mosquitos are nasty.)
There seems to be no end to the drama in that household and for that I feel bad. I really do*. I fall on my knees and thank God it’s not me, and pray for the Trashingtons to find the strength and wisdom to straighten their lives the fuck out.
I know I’m being harsh and very Judgy McJudgerstein here, but the stuff that goes on over there has just about plucked the last compassionate nerve right out of me. I’m pretty sure that when Forrest Gump said “Stupid is as stupid does”, he was talking about the Trashingtons’ DBBFs.
Yesterday, the three girls were outside along with the DBBF of Daughter #2. DBBF’s friends come careening down the street in their shitty little Nissan at about 80 miles an hour. Tires squealing, they turn into the driveway, nearly hitting one of the girls. They throw the car in reverse and shoot across the street, up onto the sidewalk, where they proceed to spin their tires in the lawn of the elderly lady who has the misfortune to live across from the Trashingtons. They peel out of the lawn, leaving huge tire divots, park and get out. A couple houses down the street from the lawn desecration are two of my other neighbors, waiting for their son to get off the kindergarten bus. Daughter #2 yelled a half-hearted apology to them, before cracking up with DBBF and friends.
Looking back, I should have called the cops. And I’m pissed at myself for not doing so, but as Munky stated, there wasn’t really anything the cops could do unless they caught the driver in the act. I know the neighbors on the other side of the Trashingtons have called the health department on them numerous times because of the trash in the yard, yet the trash is still there. So I’m feeling a bit powerless and frustrated about the whole situation. On the one hand, I want to shake some sense into these people, and if it takes repeated visits by the cops to do it, then I should be making those phone calls. On the other hand, I don’t want to set myself and my family up as targets for the DBBF and his friends. I honestly wouldn’t put it past them to try to break in when we’re not home. They broke into the house directly behind the Trashingtons, as they knew it was empty for long stretches of time, because the elderly gent who lived there was staying with his daughter.
I don’t feel comfortable having any of the kids in the neighborhood, not just mine, play in their front yards or ride their bikes on the sidewalk in front of their houses when the Trashingtons and DBBF are outside, as well. Next time, there could be a kid on that sidewalk when those morons come racing down the street. Or one of the boys could be playing in the road. I’ve already emphatically stated to Munky that our kids are not allowed in the front yard, even if we’re out there with them, if the Trashingtons are in sight. I’m too afraid that they’ll be hit by an out-of-control shitty Nissan driven by a douchebag. Thankfully, we have a nice backyard – (because we work at it, hint, hint Trashingtons) – that the kids can play in. I’m just so frustrated that all it’s taken is one house of assholes to put an otherwise great neighborhood on edge. We keep hoping against hope that they’ll move, but I think they’re here to stay. And don’t even get me started on the possibility of us moving to another part of town. For one, I’m not uprooting my entire life because of them. Two, we could end up with assholes on all sides of us instead of just one. And, perhaps most importantly, no matter how great my house and yard might look, one glance at what’s next door, and any prospective buyer will just keep on walking.
Ok, enough of my bitching & moaning. If you were in my shoes, what would YOU do? What’s your worst neighbor story?
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*For the record, I do NOT believe that there is any abuse or neglect occuring over there. If I did, this post never would have been written, and I WOULD be on the phone to the cops.
We had some people living across the street from us who had a 20-something year old son living with them who had been to jail, but had “found Jesus” there. Turns out, he “found a target” when we went on vacation and broke into our house and stole a bunch of crap. We caught him with the fingerprints he left on my son’s piggybank because the asshole emptied it. He’s being prosecuted now and will hopefully spend lots and lots of time in prison!
Oh, Kristina, that’s awful! Who steals from a little kid?!?! Let’s hope he gets many years in jail to find Jesus again. I think he forgot him when he got out the last time.
$10,000 and I’ll take care of your nasty little problem…
Ha! Of course, you realize that your secret identity is now blown. Damn it. Back to square one.
Start calling the cops every time the douchebags have a moving violation, then start asking the city council for speed bumps on your road. Either the douchebags will start avoiding your street because of the cop interest, or the speed bumps will wreak havoc on their cars.
I’ve been fairly fortunate with my neighbors, except for the ones who had loud monkey sex (screaming, banging on the walls, etc.) next to my middle son’s room when he was an infant. There’s nothing worse than listening to loud monkey sex while nursing.
I’d like to ask the town to put up speed bumps just in front of their house. Speed bumps that are 30 feet tall and surround the whole yard.
And this? “There’s nothing worse than listening to loud monkey sex while nursing.” Amen, sister, amen. You have my utmost sympathy.
You DO have a nice back yard! I’d just steer the kids on their bikes down the other way on the street and try as much as you can to ignore them. If something big happens, do call the police.
Thanks, Moonspun! We’ve been doing our best to ignore them – leaving the house for swim lessons for several hours at a time has been helpful. The police have been over there frequently since I wrote this post, but not at my behest. Seems like every time there’s a strange car over there, the police show up a little while later, so someone in the neighborhood is calling. Thank goodness.