A Non-Newtonian Fluid (maddening) wrote,
A Non-Newtonian Fluid

guh. fucking people

OH my GAWD, fuck Karl's neighbors.
Specifically the psycho asshole who banged on the doors and rang the door bell again and again just to scream and freak out about the LENGTH OF THE LAWN.

If either of us had any time to SLEEP at all maybe the lawn would become a priority.
As it is, our lives are not yet as sedate and hollow as the manicured putting green fanatics who live on this street.

just wow.

NO really... this guy was gaddamned crazy. Get ready to call the cops crazy. Crazy, falsely polite (like only british men and southern women can be), and he actually said 'old chap' several times.
You know the false polite. Where they're on the surface being calm and ingratiating, but if you really listen to their tone and the things they're saying, they're being so incredibly rude and horrible to you. I hate that anyway, but I hate it even more in the psycho, british, lawn-nazi, asshole who's taken it upon himself to inform us that the grass is long and we're a lower form of life because of it.

We've just spent about 48 hours on around 4 hours of sleep (more like 2 for Karl) finishing up this project (that just got extended again. grar) for its deadline (last night).
Today was very much not the day for this.

The grass has gotten long. Very long. Karl has already spent work time calling all the possible accredited lawn service people in the phone book and all of them are either booked for the season or they don't service this area. I think I'd *almost* talked Karl into just giving in and buying a lawn mower. I offered to mow the lawn. And even though he really really didn't want me to have to cut the lawn, I'm pretty sure he was about to relent.

Then this project started up. We've literally been in the house only long enough for a few hours of sleep each night for the last 2 weeks (except this weekend when we did number crunching and a lot of laying out of how this report was going to happen... it's a big report and an even bigger project). A piece of mail came from the community people (dunno who they are) with a really really snarky tone about the length of the grass, the state of the bushes in front of the house (they aren't perfectly trimmed), and the fact that there are pine needles on the roof (from the neighbor's tree). It said things like "opossums and rabbits enjoy homes in your yard."
Which... honestly I don't see as a bad thing. Even if we really *did* have warren upon warren of fluffy bunnies frolicking in the waving grass I don't think it would be a bad thing.
And I've yet to see an opossum that lives in grass, let alone one living in the grass around Karl's house.

So we decided that we would take care of the lawn. We'd get it cut and keep it cut. But becuase of the shitty neighborhood attitude (rich, retired white people with way too much time on their hands are never good to live around unless your only concern is a low crime rate and the assurance that any one of your neighbors will know EXACTLY what's going on in your home, any time night or day... even if they have to make it up), we decided that in addition to a gorgeous lawn we'd be putting up a wicked, brother's quay inspired halloween display, some freaky ass lawn ornaments, maybe even lil statuettes of opossums and rabbits.

So that was the plan. But we only just finished the report around noon today and came back here for Karl to do *more* work, for me to flesh out a few more pieces, and to hopefully catch a few hours of much needed sleep.

Karl was snoozing on the couch with the cats. I was in the bedroom with paperwork spread out around me on the bed, headphones on my head, listening to some very very loud Soul Coughing. I only got up at all to get a stapler.
Karl was awake and he said he'd heard some knocking. I, of course, hadn't heard anything because of the headphones.

Then the knock came again. Then the doorbell. Then another knock... a sort of *panicked* knock... like something was horribly wrong. I opened the door and no one was there. But I looked around the side and by the front door was this guy. He saw me, walked around, asked who I was.
I just stared at him (this guy who'd just been pounding on the doors like we were all in terrible danger) and asked who HE was. He's Peter, he lives down the street, he wants to talk to Karl.
Karl right about this time got a phone call from his boss. It's important.
So I tell the guy that Karl is on the phone, that it'll be a moment. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to wait then, won't I?"
So I said, yes, he would.
This guy actually gave me an snooty up and down look.. because apparently wearing a t shirt and pajama pants in your own residence is gauche. Asshole.

So Karl finally goes out and basically the guy launches into an *attack* about the lawn.
In the course of things he calls Karl a liar and tells him he's suprised he works with computers, as he's clearly incompetent. He says that he just doesn't believe that Karl has called several lawn services and that it isn't neighborly of him to let the lawn go.
He's rude, nasty, and incapable of listening to anything Karl says.
When he kept up with the insults, Karl told him the conversation (about 10 minutes) was over and closed the door on him.

He went away and about 10 minutes later he came back with the number of a kid in the neighborhood who cuts lawns, triumphantly brandishing this as proof that Karl *obviously* didn't try everyone.
Karl thanked the guy for the number, said he'd give it a shot...
Then the guy launches into another ramble about how Karl should be ashamed of the state of his lawn and his behavior and how he could learn a lot from his elders and so forth. The guy just *wouldn't* stop. He was really really rude and his demeanor was incredibly hostile.
At one point he told Karl that he needs to seek psychiatric help. PUH LEEZE!

Karl asked many times for the guy to just LEAVE. Thanks for the help, appreciate it, now just GO.
I at one point made the mistake of trying to get them to both just shoosh so I could tell the guy that his input was appreciated but he needed to go now (sometimes just having a third party get involved defuses the whole situation) but he cut me off and said that my input wasn't needed here.
That just made Karl just as angry as all the insults he'd already put up with.
The guy just kept at it and kept at it, picking at everything, looking for a fight.
Karl kept his cool remarkably well, never cussed, didn't really raise his voice except to be heard over the non-stop-talk of the other guy, and was really sort of... impressive. He did end up telling the guy that if he didn't leave (after being asked repeatedly) that he *would* call the police.

Another neighbor actually popped up and came over to get the guy to calm down.
He very calmly asked that Karl cut the lawn.
Which is really all he wanted in the first place... someone to be straight forward instead of doing this bullshit, fake polite "oh I just want 5 minutes of your time" thing.

The major reason they've sighted for this needing to happen so desperately? Resale value. Who's selling a house? The people on the street BEHIND Karl's house. So the people who can see the backyard...
Fuck a bunch of that.

The other guy shut up and let the other neighbor talk. Karl and the other neighbor had a polite conversation, Karl thanked him and that was that.

Written down, it doesn't seem nearly as annoying. Believe me... rarely have I seen anyone be this blatantly assholish while still playing polite on the surface. Like I said... British men and Southern women.

But we called the kid. Having a local kid cut the grass is probably a hell of a lot cheaper than having a lawn service do it. And it'll fucking make the neighbors stop this stupid stupid shit.

It's really pathetic that THIS is how they spend their free time. Forming commitees and having meetings about the do's and don'ts of homeownership in this area. According to the psycho, Karl has already pissed off everyone in the neighborhood.
I think we'll probably be doing more of that in the future. But intentionally, legally, and with a lot of fucking style.

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