One of the things we were very excited about in our move was to get away from our neighbors. There’s the homeschooling family of 7 across from us whose children are overly fond of dressing up in chamo and playing militia up and down the street, the teenage girl next door who, while an amazing playmate for Will, can be a little overbearing, and the neighbor to our right who gives hobo a new name. Phrases like “ugh–what are her ferrel children doing now?” were not so much uncommon in our house.
So of course today when I went to meet our renters and have them sign their lease, the woman’s very first question had to be: “Why did you move? There aren’t any crazy neighbors you’re running away from, are there?”
Oh crap. I’ve only known the woman for three minutes and I’m already throwing out lies. We DID want to get away from our neighbors. I laughed to cover up my panic. “Oh no–we just wanted a bigger house. Everyone here is really nice–no psycho killer neighbors.” (Notice how carefully I steered away from “crazy” and instead went for “psycho killer.” Crazy neighbors we have. Psycho killers, not so much.)
Then she mentioned that she’s not really big into the whole neighbor thing and prefers to be left alone. Danger, Will Robinson.
She’s going to HATE her closest neighbor. I’m pretty sure come October 12th at 5:00pm EST we’ll find her combing the streets of Black Forest, looking for an isolated farmhouse of her own.
