Living Next to a Barnyard

 There is a road in Fitchburg, MA which I sometimes traveled.  I think that it was called Stickney Rd.  It took me by one of those small and almost extinct New England Dairy Farms.

'Twas not entirely a bucolic scene. As is the case in other places, the barnyard was filled with old and rusting farm equipment. Much as the farmer loved the land, the profit level was so marginal that paying for the old machinery to be taken away was simply too expensive.

I sometimes think that I live next to a barnyard, even though I live in a more or less respectable Condo complex.

We share a driveway. There is no dividing wall between our car ports ports

This is the neighbour, who would incessantly call out to me about this, that and nothing when I left my home.

My neighbour who, when I asked "please leave me alone",  responded with "you are a disgusting human being, and as far as I am concerned you do not exist".

She called out to me the other day and I did not respond.  She cried out "why can't you be nice for a change?"

I kept my counsel. 

I wanted to ask why she was speaking to someone who does not exist!

I wanted to ask why her car port looks like the site of a permanent yard sale.

Hurricane season begins in June.  Should we be hit, her stuff will be blown hither, thither and yon.

 

I am a bit amused that she's made a fence so that she does not have to took at her trash and recycling bins  -   but I do!

This is the Berlin wall she's built so that "my leaves" do not blow into her side of the car port.   "My leaves?!"  I am reminded of Headley Bray, one time Mayor of Fitchburg.  When criticized about the slow removal of snow he said  "the good Lord put it down, and The good Lord will take it away"  That's how I feel about MY leaves!

My neighbour has two little dogs.  Despite the Condo. Assoc. regulations and the City Ordinance she allows them out unleashed. We, i.e. the other near neighbours and I worry about this,  for the safety of the dogs who often run out into the street, despite official letters of warning.

We wonder if the neighbour is deficient or defiant.

** I broke my silence earlier this year when a third dog (which she was dog-sitting) snuck past me as I was leaving my home, and then urinated on my kitchen floor.

The above was written at the end of a day during which I had been feeling grumpy! I'd rather share my grumpiness with you than yell at her.

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And now for something completely different.

  

TREKKING.   My dopey musing during a sleepless night.

There are Ranger for the Strangers to warn them of the Dangers.

But they cannot eat Oranges for they do not rhyme.

Nor can they use Flanges.