Wednesday, 11 April 2012
Neighbours. And I don't mean Kylie, Scott Michaelson or Madge
Do you have dodgy neighbours? For a while there, we had great neighbours. We had a bunch of IT guys that lived down the back of our house and we barely heard a peep from them. Our neighbours on another side are a young couple renovating the cutest weatherboard cottage you've ever seen. And then on the other side are some people that always have their blinds closed, and I only ever see their dogs out the back when I hang the washing out.
Life was good. Life was simple. Life was quiet.
Until the IT guys moved out, and we had this bunch of junior burgers move in who drive up and down, up and down the driveway. Blast out their music starting at 11:30pm. Have a spot of biffo at 3:30am outside the front of their house - which coincidentally is right outside our bedroom window. Not so rad.
And then the young couple with the ever-so-cute weatherboard invited us in for dinner one night. A good night was had by all. A few months later they asked us if we wanted them to trim their huge - beautiful - oak tree that leans over our driveway. We said yes! Yes please. The possums get in there, along with the bats, and they have one big pooping and weeing party all over our car. So they said, yes, yes we will do that. And then nothing. And then two days after Christmas one of the branches - actually two - fell on our car and gave it three big pock marks on the roof.
We let them know. They said they were waiting to trim the tree because it was too expensive to have the tree trimmed - it was $600. We got a quote to fix our car - it was $600. And then they started to avoid us. Like the black plague.
Now they're not talking to us. As soon as they see us drive in, they go inside their house. And since the tree branch falling on the car thing happened, we have to park on the street.
And now the flipping across-the-road neighbours are parking right outside the front of our house, which - as we all know, is the holy grail of car parks and in a highly sought after parking situation, that park belongs to the correlating tenant. RIGHT? Isn't it some unsaid thing? But no. Not for them. It's like they're staking us out in their big white Tarago.
I'm thinking about moving into this pink caravan that I spotted while we were away. At least I could move it every time someone got too close.