The new owners closed on the house close to me a couple of days ago. He’s a medical student, so hopefully, he will be quiet at least some of the time while his professors keep his nose to the grindstone. I guess the price to pay for that will be that if you work hard, you play hard. We’ll see. Fingers are crossed and a new voodoo doll is still in its wrapper.
After one year of domestic bliss, the first tenants of the dumbass that repaired the house moved on and gathered as many of their treasures as possible, in search of their next victims.
They left behind a defunct truck and quite a bit of their belongings. The landlord came and piled everything that was left behind into the bed of their truck, a la Sanford & Son. I felt both in awe and disgusted looking at the truck parked on the street with garbage piled a good 10 feet high in the bed of the truck. After a threat to have it towed, the former tenants hired a tow truck to reclaim it. I’ll never forget the expression on the tow truck driver’s face. He said the same thing I said, “It’s like something out of Sanford & Son.” He threw all of the belongings/garbage onto the grass between the sidewalk and curb and took off with the truck to parts unknown.
The next tenants seemed like a step up. It was an elderly couple from Canada, a couple of architects. It was bizarre, though, because once they moved in, they were there all day, every day. Things seemed fine for a while until I came to realize they were never going to put up curtains on their 30 windows. This wouldn’t be a problem except for their love of underwear…only underwear.
Why is it that the people that you want to least see nekkid or in their tidy whiteys are the people that are most comfortable promenading around on display for the whole world to see? There is nothing attractive about elderly Canadians with nothing on but undies and an open robe, and I mean untied open, air out all of my junk kinda open. That is the only time I’ve thought the world needed two more Snuggies.
Sadly, it turns out that both lost their jobs when they moved into their new apartment. Without kids and being two professionals, they seemed to have saved up enough money to float for a while until the man of the house got a new job. This allowed the missus to continue her all-day drinking and flashing while the man of the house brought home the Canadian bacon.
They filled some of their loneliness with a yappy little terrier. They would get so drunk and passed out that the little thing would yap and yap and yap without any attempts to play with her. If she had been a larger dog, it could have eaten them and neither would have given a struggle. Sorry, that was kinda gross.
Mail delivery was inconsistent and usually wouldn’t get to the mailboxes until well after dark. The mail delivery people would lose their grip when it came time to deliver to them. Too bad for them that the mailbox was on the second floor. It got to where they refused to get near the door and would violently chuck the mail from the sidewalk.
They would go to the door with a package or something requiring a signature and when they would ring the doorbell, the couple, slouched on the sofa with their robes exposing their nasty parts would just stare at the mail person…I mean stare, would not move, would not come to the door, would just stare at them like they’re made of wax.
I know this because several times, when they would get to my house, if I happened to be outside, they would be so freaked out that they wouldn’t stop talking. They needed therapy and someone to talk them off of the ledge. The threat they faced on the job was not rabid dogs, it was drunk Canadian nudists without curtains.
Since I had the pleasure of two years with these dreamboats, I’ll break this up into two posts while I reflect on the good times. Btw, I actually love Canada as I have dear friends from there and currently living there.
xoxo,
BSL
Time for a quickie! I’m so excited to reach 1000 hits! A super-sized special Thank You to you! I consider you a great online friend and a dear, lovely person for stopping by and not only taking the time to read what falls out of my mind, but also taking the time to comment. I love to hear from you!
I love you all and hope you will honor me with some of your time in the future, and hopefully, the opportunity to hear from you in comments again soon, too!
A house close to mine is about to get a new owner. It was previously owned by an elderly couple that were pleasant enough, except for their hatred of wind chimes and getting their drink on in the morning hours. After Katrina, they moved away and sold their flooded home dirt cheap, even by flooded home standards. This opened the way for a total dumbass to buy it and spend an eternity tearing apart what didn’t need fixing and not fixing what did. He nonchalantly admitted to accidentally catching on fire another home he attempted to renovate during one conversation.
The first tenants were an odd group that had no business paying triple the rent that they could afford. As a matter of fact, they had no business living in civilization. Several of the people rebuilding my home commented that those people needed to be out in the country somewhere with lots of room away from other people. Every trash day, you could hear them putting out several bags of trash clanking with cases of empty beer bottles. They enjoyed grilling food permeated with multiple cans of lighter fluid, throwing baseballs without aim, slingshots, paintball guns, and even blow darts. They enjoyed drinking until 3 am and inviting everyone in their extended family and circle of friends to come let the kids run wild and get drunk along with them. Despite wrecking cars while being under the influence, arrests for theft, and totally trashing the place, they managed to stay there an entire blissful year.
Looking back, it is hard to think of what lovely thing about them I miss the most. Could it be their love for The Devil Went Down to Georgia blaring on a constant loop? Hmmm…yep, that will work. The problem for them, though, is our studio monitors that my husband bought back in the day to end his college dorm speaker wars. They produce pure sound and are audible for blocks.
It only took about three times of raising their Charlie Daniels Band with a Macy Gray to shut them up…just a little. The tenants that followed were also a couple of winners. More on them in another post.
Just like Groundhog Day, it is the same thing every morning, every afternoon, and every night. I just want to grab a blankie and say, “sleepy time!”
There is a recent article on RealAge.com that ranks cities that are best and worst for sleep, also labeled the youngest and the oldest cities. New Orleans ranks fourth in the rankings of oldest/worst for sleep, behind Knoxville and Memphis, with Louisville taking top prize. Charlotte, North Carolina, takes the top spot for youngest / best city for sleep. They took into consideration lifestyle trends and factors such as smoking, diet, alcohol, employment, etc. I have an inkling what might have sunk our battleship in the surveys.
xoxo,
As a toddler, I was first viciously attacked by a stealthy buck moth caterpillar that was lying in wait on a rose bush. That sneaky, vile thing didn’t even belong on a rose bush. I was happily playing in the front yard before running inside screaming and crying. Turns out I am allergic to tidda-piddas and wound up being brought to the emergency room. When asked repeatedly what happened, I could only say, “tidda-pidda on da ticka bush.”
They have lots of black spines that stick into your flesh. Once you realize that you are on fire from the stinging and knock the thing off of you, it is almost impossible to see the spines, but you can see its outline in a red welt. One of the only things that I have heard of that will help lessen the sting is to grab some sticky tape and keep placing fresh tape onto the spot and pulling it off in hopes of pulling out some of the spines. If you are allergic, though, the next step will be seeking medical treatment.
They get big enough that you can see them crossing the street sometimes. I will openly admit that I swerve out of my way to run them over. They are the enemy and they are tricky creepy crawlers. The buck moth caterpillars aren’t normally on rose bushes, but that bad tidda-pidda was that day. xoxo,
I read a while ago that Antoinette brought her baby doll costume with her when she evacuated for Katrina. Evacuation is usually limited to your most precious necessities due to space, like your children and pets and maybe a toothbrush. She found the shelter morale depressed, so she donned her costume and started her second line. I can’t recall much of that article as to what the general consensus was of the shelter population, but if it was anything less than glowing, it was no doubt skewed by the the turmoil we all felt at the time.
xoxo,
xoxo,
