It’s been awhile since I blogged about the neighbors. I think you’ll enjoy this.
I’d been gone a couple of days and, turning the corner toward my house, I had the strange sensation (call me preministic, if such a word exists) I would see Howard’s RV. After all, 2010 was nearly 23 days old, and, to my knowledge, he’d yet to take the brood to Disney World. It’s important they go as often as possible, he’s often explained, while now-eight-year-old Sammy still believes. Just what she believes I’m not exactly sure. If it’s that seven foot tall felt mice really do wear tuxedos, I may just pull her aside for a little chat. While I’m at it, I’ll try to convince her to take the training wheels off her bike. Not that she’s had a chance to learn to ride without them. Howard doesn’t even walk the dog. You can’t expect him to spend time playing with his kids. Still, these are the type of people who would take two-month-old Eddie to a restaurant to the detriment of the other diners.
UPDATED!!! Shortly after I posted this, I walked outside to find the whole clan. Not only did they confirm the Disney trip – Wednesday to Sunday – Um, doesn’t Sammy have school? Oh right, they pull her out about 10 times a year for crap like this – they were, in fact, returning from McDonald’s – a restaurant – baby in tow. I’m brilliant.
- Note to self: When I have children I promise to sacrifice my social life in order to spare others.
- Another note to self: Be sure to get a social life so that when you have children you can sacrifice it in order to spare others.
So I pulled around the corner about midnight and, sure enough, Howard’s RV was parked in his driveway. I was sort of pleased with my precognizance. Then I saw Howard’s giant pick-up truck in my driveway. To be honest, I don’t really mind. There’s room. Though I have to wonder why he didn’t move his dead father’s pizza delivery car (yes, that’s another story) out of the driveway, then pull his truck into his garage, then put the pizza car back. Too sensical? Sensible? Am I making up words?
No sooner had I gotten out of the car, when Howard appeared at his door, giant pasty thighs bathed in the soft yellow glow from the living room lamp. Howard apologized for parking his truck there. I said it was fine. He’s leaving Wednesday and had to clean the RV. He spends so much time cleaning that thing, you’d think some would transfer to his house, but no. I don’t even think the people from the TV show Hoarders couldn’t help.
Well, the whole point is, while Howard was at his door, I was never more grateful to see such flabby folds of flesh, all hanging in the right places. Because Howard, you see, wore no pants.
UPDATE#2: Howard just came over, needing to borrow a tool. I greeted him with Hello Howard. I have to be more careful with these fake names. They’re becoming all too real to me. I told him his problem sounded like one I would come to him seeking help for, but I would go over to his house and check it out. Whilst there, Moira let loose a curse laden tirade at the dog, who’d run away and then come back; Howard’s mother, who is visiting from Maine for a month, but forced to stay in a motel (I think she’s better off); and eight-year old Sammy, who needed to go to the bathroom, but didn’t want to go to the bathroom. So she used one of Eddie’s diapers. I was the only one disturbed by any of this.