Midnight In The Garden Of Hood And Weevil
Every neighborhood has one. You know, the “weird” house.
There’s overgrown shrubbery hiding most of the house, one or two roses meekly trying to raise their heads and avoid being strangled by the weeds, and an endless list of gardening mistakes that amount to a veritable botanical Chamber of Horrors. Not to mention the fact that you rarely, if ever, see the residents of this nightmare home and you imagine them being involved in everything from growing hydroponic pot to gun-running for terrorists.
In our quaint neighborhood, we are that house.
Compared to the other rather sedate homes in our part of town with their well-manicured lawns and flags turned out for the appropriate holidays, and generally populated by older folks who’ve never voted any other way than Republican, we must seem like the Addams Family house. Those neighbors who do speak to us usually glance around nervously behind us, as if expecting the undead creature we’ve been working on in the basement to suddenly appear.
This week we got our annual violation notice from the township asking us to tidy up the sidewalk around our property, which is twice the trouble for a corner property like ours. Not to mention the fact that the landscaper (me) can generally find better things to do than get off the couch to groom an area that, it seems to me, could just as easily be walked around.
What, they’re afraid of a little exercise?
So I’ve gotten out the clippers and come out under cover of night in my ninja suit to do a little trimming. I’d rather the neighbors not see me knuckling under to their brutish and elitist demands. You don’t see me complaining about their sculpted bushes and neatly arranged rows of flora, do you? In the meantime, I’m cooperating with this Neighborhood Taliban, lest I become a victim of their twisted sense of “justice,” not to mention the wife’s rolling pin.
Speaking of whom, Happy Anniversary to us. If you missed the wedding, you missed a hell of a show. We still have some leftover yarmulkes, if you’re interested. As I told those assembled at the time, when I first met my wife I was on a street corner drinking wine out of a brown paper bag.
Which would be funny if it weren’t true.
Anyway, I’d hate to think of where I’d be if she hadn’t shown up. From time to time, the world does show us undeserved mercy. May you receive yours, too.
And I have to say that I am shocked – shocked! – to hear that a senior official of the Bush Administration would exploit the events of 9/11 for political gain!
What is the world coming to?
There’s overgrown shrubbery hiding most of the house, one or two roses meekly trying to raise their heads and avoid being strangled by the weeds, and an endless list of gardening mistakes that amount to a veritable botanical Chamber of Horrors. Not to mention the fact that you rarely, if ever, see the residents of this nightmare home and you imagine them being involved in everything from growing hydroponic pot to gun-running for terrorists.
In our quaint neighborhood, we are that house.
Compared to the other rather sedate homes in our part of town with their well-manicured lawns and flags turned out for the appropriate holidays, and generally populated by older folks who’ve never voted any other way than Republican, we must seem like the Addams Family house. Those neighbors who do speak to us usually glance around nervously behind us, as if expecting the undead creature we’ve been working on in the basement to suddenly appear.
This week we got our annual violation notice from the township asking us to tidy up the sidewalk around our property, which is twice the trouble for a corner property like ours. Not to mention the fact that the landscaper (me) can generally find better things to do than get off the couch to groom an area that, it seems to me, could just as easily be walked around.
What, they’re afraid of a little exercise?
So I’ve gotten out the clippers and come out under cover of night in my ninja suit to do a little trimming. I’d rather the neighbors not see me knuckling under to their brutish and elitist demands. You don’t see me complaining about their sculpted bushes and neatly arranged rows of flora, do you? In the meantime, I’m cooperating with this Neighborhood Taliban, lest I become a victim of their twisted sense of “justice,” not to mention the wife’s rolling pin.
Speaking of whom, Happy Anniversary to us. If you missed the wedding, you missed a hell of a show. We still have some leftover yarmulkes, if you’re interested. As I told those assembled at the time, when I first met my wife I was on a street corner drinking wine out of a brown paper bag.
Which would be funny if it weren’t true.
Anyway, I’d hate to think of where I’d be if she hadn’t shown up. From time to time, the world does show us undeserved mercy. May you receive yours, too.
And I have to say that I am shocked – shocked! – to hear that a senior official of the Bush Administration would exploit the events of 9/11 for political gain!
What is the world coming to?
posted by Count Screwloose at 4:40 AM
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