Country Living is Not always what it’s Cracked up To be…

Sometimes I am not glad to be an adult.  The one who has to be in charge.

 

Like when I have to march over to the neighbor’s house with a bee in my bonnet ready to go all Mrs. Gultch on them yelling about “and your little dog, too!!!!”  But these things need to be done. 

 

The realtor’s sign is in our front yard and we have someone coming to look at the house on Saturday morning.   I went outside to pick up some hot wheels cars that Edison & the neighbor boy (and his multiple barefooted shirtless cousins) had left outside when I realized the yard was an obstacle course of animal feces.  Dog.  Goat. Pony.  More Dog.  Little Dog. Big Dog.  [I am really looking forward to having a house with a fenced in yard!!!  No wide open spaces for me.  No sir.  No free range ponies.  No wandering goats.]

 

So, I march over to the neighbors house, steam shooting out of my ears.  Because.  This. Is. The. Last. Straw. For. To. Day. Listening all day to the screaching, the fighting, the I’m TELLin’s. 

 

And what do I see when I look up?  Naked white 3rd grade butt of the neighbor kid PEEING on our tree.

 

That is when my brain exploded.

 

I’m feeling better now.

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One response to this post.

  1. You ought to move to LA, not a goat for miles. 🙂 I have to admit, I was waiting to read how the actual confrontation went but perhaps my imagination will suffice. (That might be scary though, I was thinking of all the things I’d want to say and well, it wasn’t pretty!) I hope you guys can be settled in ONE place soon.

    Thanks so much for posting my fundraising website and blogs! I really appreciate your support and welcome the support of your readers. 🙂

    Reply

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