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You can’t pick your neighbors…

33 Comments

 

But you can bitch about them on your blog, and that’s something.

When we lived down south we had a rental property next door. It was a revolving door of nightmarish neighbors, each one worst than the last. For 17 years we physically cringed when the moving van pulled up to unload the next batch of morons.

You think I’m kidding when I say morons?

One guy came over and asked my husband how to change a light bulb.

 

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One never mowed the lawn.

One had wild parties every night (and never invited us, which is the definition of rude).

One brought cockroaches to the cul de sac.

One had to be evicted (she may or may not have been a hooker, tough call).

One shot pigeons for fun and left their rotting carcasses in the back yard.

One ran an errand for his wife and never came back.

One painted the house’s exterior trim Pepto Bismol pink.

Yes, in retrospect it sounds entertaining. But trust me, it was anything but.

So when we moved back to Maine and chose to live in the country far away from the morons? When we picked a house where you can barely see your neighbors?

 

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Anyway….

Life was good. Until a dumb ass neighbor moved in to the house behind us.

Have you ever Google Earthed yourself?

This is a shot of our place.

 

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With a giant blue dot for what must have been me with my laptop out on the deck.

We own a smidge over 3 acres and as you can see, mow most of it. Our property line ends a few dozen feet into the woods and the adjoining property runs down to the river. Sadly, it was all one massive piece 2 years before we moved here. Wish we had found it before it was split up… but if wishes came true? I’d be 5’9″, 120 lbs and have a summer home in Tuscany.

The previous owners of our home lived here for 2 years while they built a larger house on the water. They were great…. but moved away after 10 years. Now we have a college frat boy/trust fund baby whose daddy bought him the house (for $750,000), gave him a prosperous business, which he then sold for a fortune and “retired” at 35. He spends all his time playing with numerous expensive toys and traveling on daddy’s dime. Must be nice.

But the reason for this bitchy post?

One of his toys is a giant motor home….. that he parks on the outermost limit of his property so he won’t have to see the damn thing.

 

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That’s us in blue, with our little 3 acres. We own a narrow patch of the woods past the fields….. his house is on the upper left of the picture.

He had all that wooded land in between….

 

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But he parked the stupid thing 2 inches from our property line.

 

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You can’t pick your neighbors… but you can certainly waste 478 words bitching about them.

 

 

33 thoughts on “You can’t pick your neighbors…”

  1. Great post! I hope it helped you feel better.

    And I feel your pain! Neighbors certainly do take all of the pleasure of living in a certain place. Still, I’d take your 3 acres over my mind-bogglingly over-priced tenth of an acre of suburban Dallas real estate. Why, in a state as huge as Texas, they choose to build houses practically stacked on top of each other, I’ll never know.

    I’m sure the one prayer God receives more than any other is, “God, please let my new neighbors be quiet hermits!”

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    1. We lived that way down south as well, at the end of a cul de sac with a tiny pie sized piece of land. Three acres is a small lot up this way, but it feels like no mans land compared to our last place…. and that’s fine with me.

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      1. If I could figure out a way to make a living, I would give up suburban life in a heartbeat and head for a no-man’s-land somewhere. Alas … my job requires me to be where the job actually is, which is in suburbia.

        Enjoy your 3 acres of semi-solitude. 🙂

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  2. Wow, your property is beautiful, and I can see how annoyed you must be at that motor home inched from your property. Imagine having five Toyota vehicles in different stages of disarray on your neighbors front yard? I think staring at that motor home is wwwaaayyy better than having to look at all these mechanical assholes in your neighborhood. 😡😤

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  3. I hope your neighbor doesn’t read your rant because he sounds like the type who’d take it as a challenge to make your life as miserable as he can legally (or even illegally) make it. I once had a neighbor like that and ended up moving, because life is too short to put up with….well, let’s just say he was an asshole (though that doesn’t begin to do him justice).

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  6. My condolences:
    I bought my retirement home in the wilds of Texas, and was looking forward to going out on the back porch with my coffee each morning clad only in my BVD’s .
    Then one morning I staggered out to enjoy a sunrise, sans-culottes and a damned 14′ x 60′ trailer house was sitting 150′ out my back door.
    Since then, one child molester … gone now
    One pit bull breeder … now gone
    Owners druggie son with preggers girlfiend … now gone
    One competitive skeet shooter who practices daily … still here.
    And yours truely? Has to wear a bathrobe and glowers at a blue trimmed trailer house ’til his caffeine infusion is complete.
    It just isn’t right …

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  9. Shitty.
    Thank goodness you have that patch of woods.
    When we lived down south, we started out with the most wonderful neighbors on all sides. And they left and bad ones came and it just got worse, and I kept bein stuck there. I’m with you on potential hooker neighbor. Georgia Peach her car told me. Wearin hot pants and heels comin and goin all hours of the night, with or without men. Maybe not a ho, maybe just a slut. Questionable nonetheless. When her husband was stateside, he enjoyed parking in the lawn, blasting his cowboy music, and polishing his truck. For 12-14 hours a day.

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