cigarettes and an old lawnmower

Have I mentioned that I hate my neighbor? Oh yes, I think that I have. Let me refresh you on why I hate my neighbor.

There are many disturbing aspects of my neighbor’s personality. For the sake of anonymity let’s call him F. (I wonder if you can see where this is going?)

On the very top of my list is the fact that he doesn’t work, BUT he has EVERYTHING handed to him. And he is at this very moment, across the road, mowing his lawn. But he can’t work a job. Does that make sense to you?

Somewhere in there is the fact that he has been accused of molesting both his own daughter, and his step-daughter. (As far as I am concerned, that would be reason enough right there to erase him off the face of this earth.) But he denies it all, I don’t trust him as far as I can spit, and I have warned my kids many, many times not to go over there.

I recently found out that he is seeing a 20 year old (he is 39 like me), and she has a little girl, about 5 or 6 years old. What would you interpret that as?

Yesterday, the new neighbors down the road told my husband that they were freezing in their house, and they couldn’t rub two dimes together. But, LUCKILY F had credit with the oil company. CREDIT! The town pays for his oil. As his new house.

And he always has money for cigarettes, which he flicks the butts in the road. Which I HATE to see, and FORBID anyone to smoke in my house or flick butts in my yard. (Maybe that’s why not many people come to visit me?)

The last reason, well, maybe not LAST, but pretty close, is the fact that everytime my hubby and I get something, he has to get one too. Only he gets the cheapest one, and it always poops out on him within a week.

Every time he sees me he waves. And what do I do? I wave back. Dummy. It’s what we do in the country. Even if, while I am turning away, I am saying to myself, "Why do you wave to me? I don’t like you. I will never like you. So stop fricken waving to me!"

Now, I want you to know that I don’t hate many people.

My ex-husband. Regis Philbin. F. (Possibly my mother – because she refuses to admit to abusing me, and blames me, and refuses to talk to me at all.) I’d hate my step-father for abusing me, but he’s dead, and you can’t hate someone who is dead.

I’m not really a very hateful person. And really, if F was to come across the street and tell me that he needed something, I would probably help him if I could. Even though I hate him and wish that he would move away. But if he needed us, we would be there. Are we just imbeciles? Why should we help someone like him?

Because even though I hate him, he IS my neighbor.

But, if he or one of his druggie buddies decide to visit here in the middle of the night, you can bet that he would meet the end of my gun. (If I could get it out fast enough, or actually get the bullets into it.)

Okay, I’m done ragging on F.

I will write a more appropriate entry in a little bit.

~kat