The title says it all. I literally think I live on Crazy Lane. On the right we have a lady who gets into an argument with me, and yells. I can't even get angry with her, because she is so obviously unbalanced that it would be a waste of time. She says nonsensical things to the point where I'm pretty sure the topic of the conversation is going to move to how it's my fault that the dragons are extinct, and I should quit kidnapping all of the fairies. I excuse myself and leave, but she comes and pounds on the door for ten minutes straight with a bottle of booze in her hand, yelling that she "knows I'm in there!" until my mother-in-law comes to the rescue and shoos her away.
Across the street, I chat with Sixty-six years old (remember him?). Shawn says I have to use his name now, which is Al. I suppose since I would have to change his name every year- he would now by sixty seven- this is a good idea. Al is slightly off, but very sweet. He always wears his suspenders with his jeans, and no shirt or underwear. How do I know that Al doesn't wear underwear? Well, his suspenders don't do the job nearly as well as they should, and I am much more familiar with Al's aging body than I would like. As we chat, Al informs me that his girlfriend's son has moved in with them. That explained the glowering, middle aged man that lurks outside their house every day. Al continues on, telling me that the son was just released from prison. I try to hide my alarm with a polite, "Oh?" Al nods, and then tries to frown, which is difficult for him because his face is frozen in a permanent smile. It really is. "He's not havin' too good a time," he says conspiratorially. I raise my eyebrows, unsure of what to say. Al mimes drinking from a bottle, and I nod my understanding and sympathy. Inside, I'm a little nervous about an alcoholic ex-con moving in across the street. Nothing prepared me for what Al said next: he shook his head, and said, "You know, he gets bored, and he just kills people." Again, he shook his head, as if to say, "Kids these days." I nearly raised my eyebrows off my forehead this time. I stared at Al, waiting for him to say he was joking or at least exaggerating, but he suddenly brightens and starts talking about our goats. I tried to recover, and mumbled something about giving them a bar of the goat milk soap that I've made, as Al's girlfriend and her son pull in the driveway. How does one greet a killer? My "Etiquette for Dummies" book nevercovered this. I greeted them both and tried to seem far too sweet and friendly to kill. I was about to head back home to get the soap, and my dog Emma took a giant dump in their yard. I froze, hoping I hadn't just given the son a reason for my death. Luckily, the Mundane Murderer seemed to think it was funny. I scrambled across the street, with the girlfriend (Marie) calling after me, "Watch for cars, little girl!" Ironically, in that moment, I was quite pleased to be called a little girl. It has certainly been some time since I've heard that. I quickly returned with twobars of soap and a plastic bag for Emma's turds. When I finally got home for good, I locked the door.
On the left of us is a family dynamic that we can't quite figure out. Remember Genevieve's ogly lady with the gumby boobs? Her husband had a stroke one day, but since the cats had knocked the phone off the charger and the phone was dead, she just sat there. All day. Yes, she's in a wheelchair, but they have a ramp. Instead of wheeling outside and waving at cars or yelling for help (I most certainly would have heard her), she let her husband stroke out until a county helper showed up for their weekly appointment the next day and called an ambulance. Their daughter comes to visit quite a bit, and she really creeps Shawn out. She's obviously a little slow, but in a way I've never encountered before. I had two friends over one day, and I went in the house for a moment. While I was inside, she snuck up behind them as they sat in their lawn chairs, chatting. When the finally noticed her staring at them, they kind of freaked out. I suppose I understand. She invited us to a birthday party for someone we didn't know, and left. So did my friends. This lady used wander our backyard in the middle of the night until Shawn shined her with a flashlight, but I still have an ear cocked to the backyard while I sleep, and it doesn't take much to wake me up.
Needless to say, I have been a little on edge lately. Last night, I decided that I would like to relax. Shawn was asleep, so I took a book and a bag of Dill Pickle potato chips, and settled into the recliner by the window. The window which has no curtains. It was about 1:30am, and I was trying to figure out if it was possible to pickle one's own tongue. I could no longer feel it. Being that I was heavily distracted, I didn't notice the subtle noises outside the window. Then, I heard a thunk. My heart jumped, but I quickly told myself that it was probably the neighbor's cat sticking to our screen again. See, even the animals around here are completely nuts. Since it was dark, I couldn't see anything, so I leaned back in my chair and focused on breathing again. Then, there was a distinct tap-tap-tap on the window. My eyes bugged out. This was no cat. I scrambled to lean away from the window while desperately trying to see what was out there. I finally saw a pair of eyes. And, a pair of horns. The devil himself was knocking on my window. I was so scared, I couldn't even scream. As Satan craned his neck to get a better look at me and what I was doing, I realized that it was Nibbles. The goats had gotten out and decided to window peep. They were most interested in my bag of chips. I wanted to laugh, yet wanted to kill them. I went out to put them away, and saw that they had been having the most wonderful adventure out of their pen- they had torn open the garbage bag I had left by the door, and had also been playing with the stuffed animals that Olivia and Genevieve had left by their little pool. I couldn't stay angry when I saw the stuffed kitten left in front of the back door for me. The goats are so darn social, that they literally had tapped on the window to get my attention when they saw me through the glass. I put them back in their pen, and reinforced the hole they had made. Once back in the house, I double checked all the locks, and finally fell asleep.
