Hubby called yesterday to see if I was behaving myself. Well, as we all know…I am never one to behave myself…especially when I don’t get my afternoon nap in on my furlough day.
Hubby: So, what have you been up to?
Me: Scaring small children in the neighborhood.
Me: Well, this little boy came to our door and wanted me to go look for his ball that he threw into our yard. I went out and looked for it, but couldn’t find it. It was annoying, it was like he wanted me to fetch his ball and I wasn’t all about that. So, I told him he could come in and go into the backyard and look for it if he wanted it that bad. I mean, he shouldn’t have thrown it into our yard in the first place. Only he got really scared and said “I don’t think my Mom would let me go into a stranger’s house.” So, I said sorry—I can’t find it….and shut the door and locked it.
(Note: Now before you all get mad at me, you need to realize our backyard is filled with weeds that come up to my knees AND giant landmines….not people friendly….so while I did take a quick glance around….I wasn’t about hacking through our weed jungle to find the missing ball. AND the kids are constantly throwing stuff into our backyard….so forgive me for my lack of patience.)
Hubby: Awww poor little boy! You are so mean. He probably now associates you as the MEAN OLD LADY in the neighborhood. Way to start a reputation.
I don’t know what it is about the area we live in, but we are either battling gunshots from the gang house behind us (although they have been quiet lately) or trying to sleep through all the racket at the party house. The party house is a house directly to the side of our house with a big garage. Every night the party house has a party within their garage…not even in their house, but in their garage. Come on, people? Who does this? It hasn’t really bothered me too much. That is until I noticed that every night this week (so far) they have had their garage up and their lights going along with a huge TV in the garage and then the reverb of the music singing me sweet lullabies as I try to sleep and count sheep to the beats of the noise. I mean if you have a 3000 square foot house, wouldn’t you use it….rather than the garage?
At first I thought this might be the man-cave, but there are lots of parked cars out there (and not just guys) hanging out in the garage….maybe hanging out in the garage is what people do out here in Arizona….if you ask me it is weird.
Call me crazy, but if I had a large, 2 story house, I would be inside the house! Weird if you ask me….. or am I just becoming irritable in my old age (don’t answer that)….but, hey! I told you how important sleep is to me….you don’t want to go there!
Have I mentioned I am not a people person…. 🙂
So there is an ice cream truck that drives through our neighborhood on a daily basis. I don’t know why I cringe in fear every time I hear his creepy music go past our house; he basically frightens me. I think my fear stems from a movie I saw when I was a kid. I don’t know much more, my recollections are the ice cream man would drive through the neighborhoods and get kids to follow him with his tasty treats. He would then open the back of his truck shove them in and they would fall through an icy tunnel into another land. I supposed kind of like Narnia—-but not as pretty. And would never be seen from or heard of again.
Even the ice cream van is scary! It is an old, beat up white van…no posters, no decorations with kiddie music (but more like a bad record player) playing in high pitches, so that it makes Patches go crazy every time he goes past (see even she knows he is evil).
Now hubby LOVES the ice cream man, whenever he hears the music he starts getting all excited and I have to hold him back and remind him of my irrational fear. But, usually to no avail. Someday he will believe me, but then again it might be too late. Someday when he doesn’t come back, I will know the ice cream man got him!