That honor has now been given to Bob the Indian, my next-door-sideways neighbor.
Yesterday afternoon, I heard heavy equipment outside my house and went to find Bob and his brother wrangling with a post hole digger. The hell? thought I.
I leaned out the door to mention they were getting a little close to my property line and was swatted away like a fly. Bob's family lounged in my driveway and on the front lawn. No, I did not yell "Get off my lawn".
I watched in disbelief and mild horror as Bob and Bro put up posts for a six foot tall chain link fence. Later after it got dark, I went out to examine it. Yep, that's pretty tall.
Was utterly gobsmacked when Stash rang my doorbell. I answered. He was smiling and being deferential, but no, Stash, I have not forgotten the last time we spoke.
"That fence is not within zoning regulations," he said. "It's unsightly."
"I know."
"It can't be within code. And they don't even have a building permit."
Oh, Stash, don't remind me of your getting your kitchen redone but not having a permit in your window.
"I'm going to call the township tomorrow."
"Me too."
And he salaamed his way out of my presence.
He kept saying, "How are you going to get your car out of the driveway?" and I thought in reply, the same way I always do, you maroon.
But I did call the township today. The fence is a monstrosity and we can't have that in Suburbia.
2 comments:
Is he starting a kennel?
Hate to be that person, but this could be fun. Except for not getting your car in the drive. The asshat condo builder behind us put in a crap fence instead of the one approved, he also put it up where he felt like, not the full length. Yep we went to the city and yep he fixed it.
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