We've been in this house for about a year and a half now, and I think we might've exchanged seven words with them? Not because we're assholes- no. It's less to do with us being antisocial recluses, and more to do with the language barrier. I'm not totally sure where they're from, but judging from the Latin music they sometimes play on the weekends well into the wee hours of the night, and the yelling in Spanish you also hear on a regular basis, I'm going to hazard a guess, and say they're Hispanic.
So far, since Friday afternoon they've made three trips with a full 24' Uhaul to Lord knows where. They've taken everything from the blinds I'm pretty sure came with the house, to the haphazardly installed brick retaining block around the bushes in the front yard. Who the hell does that?
What they haven't taken yet are the icicle lights put up for Christmas of 2010 that were never taken down. That is not an exaggeration. More than anything else about them, it's those fucking lights I hate the most. Not the 3am fiestas, or the fact that I have trouble getting out of my own driveway sometimes because they've blocked half of it. Or even how trashy it makes the neighborhood look when they leave their garage door open, and you can see half their business. Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to go outside and look to see if they've taken them down. If not, I'm going to finish what more than a year's worth of wind and rain has not managed to do, and rip the damned things down.
Call me Gladys Kravitz if you want. Maybe I am channeling her. But, I'll be glad when I don't see icicle lights hanging from that house like frozen snot every time I drive into my driveway, anymore.
