Steven didn’t mow the lawn until lunchtime today. The party next door, crowded as it was, was surprisingly tame compared to previous siorées. Around 10:30 last night I peeked out the window and counted 17 cars along the road, and thought we were in for another doozie.
Later today we were outside with Lydia (Sam was napping) when the main Frat and actual house owner, Nathan, came over to check that the party didn’t disturb us at all. We assured him it really had not been bad. Not like that last one, har har.
Nathan was concerned about whether the party music had bothered us. In fact, the Black Gate of Chelsea constructed out of pickup trucks that I described yesterday was intended to block sound coming out of the garage. Rather touching, actually.
Then all the happy things clicked at once: Lydia played sweetly by herself, the weather hit the perfect temperature and humidity, and we had a real conversation with the next door neighbor.
By the end of the afternoon, we had toured each other’s basements, they gave Steven a six-pack of beer plus one, and in true redneck fashion, they pulled down a dead tree that straddled the property line with one of their rumbling trucks and a tow line.
By the bye, this tree died not long after Steven peed on it. Coincidence? I think not.
As Steven sipped a cold Dos Equis this evening, he turned to me and mused, “You know, I think I take everything back I said about the neighbors.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “I think I take about half of it back at least.”
Rednecks drink Dos Equis? Huh.
As good parents, I suppose you know that good behavior should be rewarded and reinforced. I suppose this means that you must… do. something. nice, for, the, rednecks.
I look forward to reading about what that might possibly be.
They also drink Landshark.
Well, they might put a window air conditioning unit in the back basement window and we won’t say anything to the HOA. 🙂
Steven says I should make them a cake.
I suppose a cake is nice. As long as it isn’t like the pie in “The Help”.