New Neighbors

As I write, I'm being treated to a lovely back massage, at 11:15-ish PM on a Wednesday evening. But there's a catch....the back massage is being provided by my wall.

I haven't blogged about it before, but the owner of the house nextdoor was something of an ass. Last winter, one of my roof drainage downspouts came loose during a rainstorm, and the resulting cascade of water did a truly awesome job of excavating a swath out of the bank between his property and mine - his is about 10' vertically lower because we're on a hill. He took it upon himself to dig replacement dirt from underneath my porch to replace it. Much arguement and finger-pointing ensued. It was not a good time had by anybody.

So he sold the place, and the team of renovating owners are now in the process of replacing carpet, painting, and whatnot. I'd applaud this if but for one item....they evidently have day jobs and are doing this at night during the week, and while I enjoy music as much as the next guy, their choice leaves a lot to be desired in both genre and volume. This brings me back to the back massage I'm currently enjoying. Sort of.

There is something basically wrong with the idea that a central weight-bearing wall running down roughly the middle of my house, over 100' away, could be receiving enough sound energy to have a discernable vibration, much less one that feels much like being pummeled by epileptic squirrels. I've chosen not to involve the police at this time, however...these guys have no idea what they're messing with in this neighborhood. One of these days I'll have to post something about the retired lady on the corner who typically does yardwork in knee-high rubber boots and a fuzzy nightgown.

I am feeling Kate's pain with the whole neighbor thing.