Wednesday, December 5, 2012

I should probably stick to ponies.

I have a quick confession to make that's doubtless going to make me sound like an idiot. Nothing new to read here, right?

I had glanced at the clock in my car right before I pulled onto our street coming home from the barn. It was a few minutes before noon which I absently took note of. I let the dogs out, went inside, washed my hands, and spooned out some left-over chili for lunch. Punched in three minutes on the microwave and wandered away. I drifted past the microwave shortly after and glanced at the numbers.

"Hm. It's already 2:09. How did it get so late?"

And I totally thought nothing of it until the timer beeped and I opened the door to clear the "Food Ready" message. It's now 12:03? How....?

Dear Self:


Should that story not impress you, or at least cause you to shake your head sadly, I have another one for you.

Yesterday morning, I was in the shower. (The is pertinent to the story, you guys. I'm not oversharing.) I heard someone knock on the door and the dogs sounded the Invader! alarm. I was basically like, "Uh...oh, well. I have one leg covered in shaving cream and half a pound of conditioner in my hair." But this knocking was fucking insistent! I finally relented by rinising off my leg, piling my slimy hair into a bun, and pulling on my ridiculous Chicago Bulls pajama bottoms and my hot pink bathrobe. Because I am classy and that's all I had in the bathroom with me. Judge all you want.

By then, the emergency that warranted such frantic knocking must have been over because no one was at either door. I jumped back in the shower, rinsed the conditioner out my hair, and resigned myself to having one wooly mammoth-like leg and one silky smooth one until the next day. I didn't want to be caught off guard should the neighborhood be on fire or something.

Finally, once I was dressed in my new normal people clothes (which included a t-shirt because it was so warm out yesterday), I checked the doors to see if anyone had left a note on the door. Erm, no, but there was a big Sears bag hanging off the front door. I looked warily out of the windows to see if anyone was lurking, and snatched the bag inside.

In it were several strands of white christmas lights. I knew instantly who the culprit was: our anal neighbor (AN). AN and his wife apparently think our four house road in rural Pennsylvania is a gated community. There are rules and traditions that must be followed, including only putting white christmas lights up on your house, and no earlier than Dec. 1st. Now, clearly I do not actually live in a gated community. I live in the middle of a fucking corn field. Literally. This ostentatious asshole is on some power trip to rule the community.

However, we did put up white christmas lights this year:

on our fucking chicken house, dick.
I don't like how our house looks decorated in lights and I didn't feel like going through the hastle of putting them up. So Hubby and I bumped our redneck fists and decided the chickens would carry us this year.

Well, apparently that does not meet gated community standards!

I promptly hung the bag back up on the front door and called Hubby to share in the complete absurdity of the situation. He suggested spelling out "Fuck you" in lights. I mean, in all honesty, what  do  you do? I am literally at a loss of what to say to this guy.

So the next day (being today) I went to the barn early and spent my sweet time there, relishing being out of the neighborhood. I came back, ate my chili at noon and not two, and then a sudden realization dawned on me--what do I say when he comes back? Because he will come back.

I grabbed a book and sought sanctuary in the bedroom. About an hour later, I heard it--a knock on the door. I froze as the dogs jumped off the bed and sounded the Invader! alarm once again. And then I did what any nonconfrontational, slightly anxiety-ridden hermit would do.

I pulled the covers over my head and thought up excuses on why I was hiding in bed when the person knocking on the door strolled into my house uninvited. Because apparently this was a real concern at the time.

I was not meant to interact with society.

I'll give you a riding post later.

11 comments:

  1. love this! I have to say it did make me chuckle! AN just sounds to be a complete idiot, its your house surely you should be able to do what you want and NOT what HE wants you to do at least thats the way that I look at it.

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  2. Oh god.. please do the lights in a saying like.. douche or yeah.. fuck you lol. Also tell them chicken coop lights removal is trespassing. lol

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  3. I thought that the chicken coop decorated with lights was the best thing I had ever seen...That guy is a douche.

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  4. That's awesome. I've always wanted to decorate our chicken coop, but its just too difficult to get an extension cord out there! We have one with a light for the chooks, but there's no possibility of adding a second outlet. I'll live vicariously through you and your decorated coop. Hope you don't mind ;)

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    1. Our light inside the coop has an extra plug in thingy, so we were able to plug the xmas lights into that. Winning!

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  5. I have done the microwave thing before. . .haha! And I love the lights on the chicken coop! Take that, neighbors! I think we would be great friends :)

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  6. OMG - wish we were neighbors, first, because I want chickens and second, love fellow rednecks! You made me laugh at loud again...at work :)

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  7. Friggin neighbs! My neighbour asked me to not turn on one of my barn lights over night because it shone into his yard....no where near his house. I had one of my new guys in a pasture on that side over night for the first time and I wanted him to be able to see. Like bugger off nosey neighbour!

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  8. I don't know how I missed this post. It is hysterical. Now off to read the next one!

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  9. Wow, that's unreal! My neighbors are total red necks that think they can ride their snowmobiles through my front yard in the middle of summer (tearing up my front yard in the process) and ride their motorcycles through my backyard. That stopped after I called the sheriff on them...twice...but not before they shot the no tresspassing signs that I put up everywhere. Gotta love neighbors.

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If you can't say anything nice, fuck off.