The Neighbor From Hell: Part I

(For those of you who read my Random Annoyances post, you will know what I'm talking about when I refer to "#5.")

Well, my husband is out of town again. There are pros and cons to this. The pros are that I get more time for myself after the kids are in bed, and I seem to be more productive in every aspect. I guess it's because I know that I am the only one accountable, and there is no one around to pick up any slack. Possibly because of this reason, I am much more organized when he is gone. I'm also 'in the know' about everything because everything goes through me, and he isn't around to "forget" to tell me stuff. Plus, the house usually stays cleaner because there is one less person leaving their crap lying around.

As far as the cons go, I am forced to get up a little earlier because he usually wakes up the kids before getting in the shower. However, that is sort-of, indirectly a pro because when I get up earlier, I also get more done. Another con, and since I don't have a pool boy, is only a con, is that I have been becoming a little "needy." This is a newer problem, as going without sex for a few days used to be the least of my concerns. Lately, it's a whole different story. The most troublesome of all cons relates to the fifth item on my previous post, "Random Annoyances."

For whatever reason, I think because she is part animal, my crazy, delusional neighbor seems to be able to sniff out the times when I am here alone. She is a predator. She's the type who likes to snatch up little children and snap them in two before eating them for lunch. And by the looks of it, she has gobbled up many. She is one of those people who is literally as ugly on the inside as she is on the out. I know it sounds mean, and if she wasn't such a foul, heartless wench, I would never call someone this, but I have coined a "pet" name for her. She just so happens to have big, brown and very wide-set eyes, and as mentioned, doesn't exactly have a girly figure. But less because of her appearance, and more because of her tirades, I refer to her as Mad Cow.

There are several stories I could divulge, like how she brought her husband over one evening, interrupting our dinner to rant about some tiff the children had earlier in the day.
Or like how she stormed over to accost me as I sat on my front steps on the day I was robbed. The freaking cops were still in my driveway for God's sake. I felt like a matadore, as she stood over me snorting and stomping her hoof waiting for me to get off the phone. Unable and unwilling to cope with such aggressive, erratic behavior, I got up and walked toward the officers in my driveway. Funny enough, she didn't take but one step in that direction before spewing some inaudible phrase and turning in defeat to return to her stall.

Oddly, the very next time my husband was out of town again, she attempted yet more abuse on my behalf. Knowing her patterns by this time, I anticipated her arrival by sensing vibrations in the ground, similar to those caused by aftershocks. I therefore closed all the blinds and instructed the children to be quiet, and under no conditions, to answer the door. She fumed there for a while, ringing the bell, then returned home to begin repeatedly calling my house. I never answered it, but decided to take the offensive role by calling her myself the next day.

In any case, the latest issue is one that has caused me to want to go over and accost her fat ass. Her son has been deciding to play basketball from about 8:30 pm to 10 pm every weeknight for two weeks. The problem with this is, it is very loud, and even on acre lots, we can hear every single dribble, slam dunk and bounce on the backboard. My daughter has great difficulty falling asleep as it is, many nights claiming to only get a couple of hours of sleep. This of course, significantly reduces the odds of her falling asleep at a reasonable time. Additionally, there are many school-aged children within earshot of his globetrotting.

My husband has addressed this issue with them three times this week. The difference in how we broach a subject with how she does (firstly, she doesn't actually have any issues, she just likes to yell at people), is that we are polite and respectful. When that doesn't work, what do you do? I am SO (not) looking forward to how this plays out this evening with me being home alone again. I wonder if I called the cops whether they would ask them to keep it down after a certain time on a school night? One lesson I haven't enjoyed learning, is that you can't play softball with people who play hardball.