Met my new neighbors yesterday. Yes, there are more ew neighbors for me to write about! They’ve been renting the condo on the opposite side of our quad which means we share a few walls with them. Until yesterday our observations have been thus:
- Their kid screams. A LOT.
- They park their very new and sparkly gold Jaguar on their front grass area (not a lawn really, just…grass between their front door and the street)
- They have a basketball hoop set up on their patio (our fenced in patios are about 8×12 ft.)
- They enjoy slamming doors and dropping heavy items
Yesterday, the new neighbor’s kid (age: unknown, gender: unknown) was screaming its bloody head off. All day, the golden Jaguar had been in my parking spot and for a good bit of it, two people were out there just hanging out in it. I supposed I would too if my house was in Asshat Acres and my kid was performing The Exorcist upstairs.
I took a nap. With earplugs.
During my nap, the CSL (Cigarette Smoking Lady) (who lives next door, smokes like a chimney, coughs up bits of her own lungs with amazing regularity, and once insisted my husband use my brand-new garden hose to siphon out the sewage from her front hallway) called me and asked me to move my car. In Asshat Acres where I live, we have Assigned Parking Spaces. Every condo gets two unless you work it out with the board and are granted another. I parked in Crazy Lady’s second spot because there was a monumental gold Jaguar in my spot. The owners of said Jaguar were actually sitting in there talking…well, the guy was crouching beside the passenger-side door and she was at the wheel.
So I went out to meet the new neighbors.
He got progressively more defensive. At some point he gestured to his wife/girlfriend (not sure which) and she kept repeating that their landlord told them it didn’t matter which spot they parked in. And Montel goes, “Why would you have this space? It’s closer to our place. Our landlord told us it didn’t matter where we park.” I kept repeating, “I don’t make the rules, man, I just follow ’em.”
What I should have said is, “Your landlord isn’t paying his association dues and that’s why he doesn’t have a parking tag to give you. It’s also part of the reason we can’t get our pool fixed because of the asshats who don’t pay their association dues. Besides, you’ve been parking on your front lawn for the month you’ve been here so why don’t you just keep doing that because that is very classy and shows that we’re not living in the ghetto when people live in cheap condos and park their uber-expensive cars ON THE LAWN.”
The whole conversation was weird. Clearly, Montel thought I was just being a bitch. Cherrie didn’t believe me but she was trying to be nice. So I went inside, found the letter that assigned all the parking spaces, and made a copy for them. When I came to the car to give it to them, Montel like…jumped out of the car with a huff and stomped off to smoke. I shoved the papers at Cherrie and ran for my door.
My question after this was…if you’re in the car in the parking lot…who’s inside with the baby?
Stay tuned. I’m unfortunately sure there’s more to come from these people….