There will be hell to pay.

Photo credit: Pixabay

I hate my neighbors. One set of them, at least.

They’re probably my age, no kids. Her daddy bought the house and she lives in it with Boyfriend Number Two. The first one didn’t work, had dogs and was always out in the garage, shirtless, smoking, drinking and tinkering with something. The dogs were never leashed, of course.

He’d told my husband he had no skills.


He was nice enough, though. My only gripe with him was when he went into our backyard looking for one of his dogs. Whatever, that didn’t bother me either. What bothered me was that it was late at night and he looked into our sliding glass doors from the back porch. He pressed his hands and forearms against the glass, creating a visor to see in from the pitch-black outside. I caught a glimpse of his white arms as he drew back from the window.

“Holy shit!” I said.


“Someone’s in our backyard! They just looked in!” I said and drew my comfort-hiked night dress down to my knees.

My husband jumped and rushed to the back doors.

What was he looking for?

He caught up with the man in the front, my husband, holding a club or baseball bat — that part’s hazy.

He’d said he was just looking for his dog, he didn’t mean any harm.

So you thought we took your dog inside then?

I’m guessing she cheated on that one, Boyfriend Number One with Number Two because he was screaming at her in the driveway one day, several months ago now. The next morning he was gone along with his motorized scooters and dogs, and Boyfriend Number Two’s blue Hyundai was parked in her driveway.

To each their own. I had my moments in my earlier twenties, too. That’s not why I hate them.

I hate them because they got a small cruising boat. My family owned a loud, obnoxious cigarette boat growing up, but my dad and brother would flush that eardrum-thumping engine out with fresh water before seven in the evening after a boat trip.

Not my neighbors, though. No.

They like to flush it out whenever they get back. Even if it’s one, two, or three in the morning.

I’m sure my husband thinks I’m nuts, but have you ever just hated someone for something stupid and simple?

Although I don’t find flushing out a loud boat stupid and simple, especially not in the early hours of the morning in a cul-de-sac filled with kids on every side of them.

I hate them because no one else matters but them. I hate their clear lack of empathy, or simply lack of care that other people exist besides them.

At least Boyfriend Number One was apologetic and wouldn’t do something unsavory a second time.

But no, I’ve been asked not to storm out like a crazy person at three-A.M., or go over to their house the next morning to let them know that they’re inconsiderate assholes.

Maybe I am a bit confrontational. But if they run that damned boat one more time after ten-P.M., I’m ignoring the pleas of my loved ones to leave it alone. There will be hell to pay.

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