Neighbors From Hell
Note: After a far-too-long hiatus this I’ve returned to this site. I’m going to be updating Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for the foreseeable future. Special editions when something really sets me off.
Dear Neighbors,
When I moved into this house I was really looking forward to the neighborhood. It was a quiet, middle class section of New Orleans. Low crime, good people, a few passable roads and a sense of city pride.
Before my wife and I plunked down well over $150,000 on the house, we did everything right. We checked the crime maps, looked at the flood elevations and, most importantly, shook hands with every single one of our future neighbors.
If I had known that two of you were going to turn out to be such craven douchebags I would have run away as fast as I could and gotten kept renting my life away where I was. Landlords suck, but bad neighbors suck worse.
No, you were able to fake being decent human beings for about five minutes and it was only after I signed the mortgage papers and moved in my stuff that your true colors showed. The result, now I’m stuck in purgatory with two sets of neighbors that even Satan himself wouldn’t want to live next to.
“Why?” You ask. Well, I’ll tell you why.
