Peace and Contention
Bit of a mishy-mashy bish-bash of a blog post today.
Here I sit, feeling very content at the moment. Me?? Content?! Yeah, I know. A rarity, to be sure.
Mr. Handsome has gone to work (yes, on a Saturday -- it's year-end, don'tcha know), Em and Dee have decided to go to the movies to see Monsters vs. Aliens, and I am left alone with Gryphon and the guinea pigs. So, here I sit, in absolute quiet, with the warm sun streaming in through our gargantuan front window, and I feel okay, peaceful even.
It must be spring: the neighbours across the street are emptying out their garage and cleaning. This is what the husband at that house does once the warmer weather hits. I can't wait for spring because he is my entertainment. Every Friday evening, without fail, he begins to empty his garage. Everything comes out and gets put on the lawn. Why, you ask? I don't know. Because what happens after he empties the garage? He puts everything back in. Saturday morning, same thing. Sunday as well.
I've often wanted to go over there and ask him what gives, don't you have anything better and more important to do with your weekends? But he has ignored me pretty much every time I've ever gone over there to be neighbourly. I don't think he likes me. Not sure why.
Then there's the neighbour beside this neighbour, whose mother does all the housework inside and out. Here's this itty bitty woman, her gray hair in a tight bun, running around her daughter's house, swatting rugs, picking up litter off the huge lawn, washing their windows. I'm trying to befriend her so that maybe she'll adopt me, because god knows my windows could use a good cleaning, and I don't have the time for such things. Only problem is, I'm not sure I much like her. She once wanted to call the police because my dad's car was parked on the street, and she didn't know whose car that was, and how dare they park this car on the street? She doesn't even live here! She's the kind of person who needs to know everything, for no other reason than to know. She's nosy, and she's whiny too. Not a good combination, I feel. But she has loads of energy, so I'll keep trying to be nice to her, because a good window washer and rug beater is hard to find.
And then there's the neighbour on the other side of the first neighbour (the one who cleans out his garage three times a weekend). Now, this neighbour tends to do things with his tent trailer when they haven't all gone camping for the weekend. He'll crank the trailer up and set it all up, and look at it. Then his wife comes out, and they both stand there, hands on hips, and they look at it. Then they crank that baby back down again and clean their gutters and stuff. Every weekend.
Then, the neighbour to the left of us, he's a nice guy, but very very quiet, and I've always believed that when a man lives all alone, and doesn't seem to have any friends, and is very quiet, there is something very wrong with him, and so I am trying to get him kicked out of the neighbourhood, because he kind of freaks me out. Once, I was trying to be nice to him at a Neighbourhood Watch meeting, and I offered him a drive home since it was raining out, and he wouldn't get out of the damn car. Like I said, freaky.
The neighbours to the right of us: nice people, but I never see them. They're very private. They have a baby, but I've seen him maybe twice since he was born, and that was a year-and-a-half ago. They do come out, but only to do yardwork and to give us nasty, sideways glances because we don't do yardwork, and apparently, a neat and tidy lawn is very important to these people and makes you closer to god or something. Well, I'm letting them know right now that we don't have the time or the energy to pick up every stray leaf off our lawn, nor do we have the inclination to do so. I think a leaf-strewn lawn is actually preferable. In fact, I think I might throw a couple of dog craps out there as well for good measure.
And me? When I'm done watching all the neighbours, I'm going to clean the house. I actually have a bit of energy today, and although my arthritis is flaring up, I'm going to battle on and get some stuff done because I am sick of not being able to do anything. And plus, I finally went to my doctor yesterday (getting in to see this guy is a whole other blog post in itself), and he told me that there is nothing wrong with me. Nothing. My blood is in better shape than his, he says.
So, I ask, why is it that I always feel like I fell down two flights of stairs and landed in a vat of acid?
He says I'm an enigma. It's just who I am, he says. And I'm guessing that should be a good enough explanation.
Yes, that must be it. I am a healthy healthy person who cannot do a day's work without needing a two-hour nap in the middle of the day, who cannot eat more than one meal a day without being in great pain and discomfort, who has lost over 30 pounds over the last couple of years, and whose every joint and muscle cries out in pain most days. That must just be who I am. I know my Stickler Syndrome probably has something to do with it, but really, don't you think he'd want to do a little more research?
Maybe I have one of those rare orphan diseases, or maybe something completely new and odd that would make him famous were he to discover it, or maybe I just have an alien living inside my body, slowly procreating and causing havoc.
But we'll never know, will we? Not at this rate, anyway.
Neighbour #1 is now vacuuming his car engine, and I am now seething with anger and resentment, so what better time to do some floor mopping? So much for my peaceful Saturday!