Suburbia

Sunday night, Sparky and I walked around the corner to a friend's house. She is a co-advisor for Sr. Highs (at church), but more to the point on Sunday evening, she is a consultant for Creative Memories. Yes, indeedy, we were there to shop. Sparky rode his bike and I walked--fast--laughing at him being dorky. We earned a strange, rather annoyed, look from a neighbor who was standing in his driveway. I waved and said something to the effect of "Watch out--he's a danger on the roads!" to which his mouth slightly twitched into what I took to be a smile. Kind of.

We shopped. I held the 11-month-old while Mom totaled us up. For my trouble, I got drooled on, and screamed at. Oh, well. He's healthy and has good lungs, so that's good anyway.

We started back home, me trotting along, Sparky trying to pedal slowly, talking about when he can start working on his photo album. We got close to the Grouchy Neighbor's house and I started to hear his voice, from inside the house. Yelling. [And why, when it's a woman, is it screaming, but when it's a man, he's yelling?]

So yeah, yelling. Swearing, too. As in "GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" and other sentences to that effect. I glanced at the house a couple of times and otherwise ignored it to the best of my ability, just raising my eyebrows at Sparky once when he caught my eye. I mentioned it once we got inside our house and The Beast went and stood on our porch "taking the air" (ahem). He said Loud & Grouchy had to have seen him, but he kept yelling.

Whatever. He has a tendency to have loud, cursing conversations on his phone while standing on his porch. Did you notice his favorite word is "fuck." He doesn't have a lot of verbal creativity. Whaddaya gonna do? They like their porch; they sit outside in the evenings till after dark. Usually it's not a big deal: they're just there. When he's not angry, he's not loud.

And anyway, people, well, people argue. I wasn't even sure he was talking to his wife Sunday night (er, well, shrieking at her, really); he may have been chasing the currently-very-pesky-flies-and-bees that may have been driving him nuts. Or so I reasoned. Then I forgot about it and went on with my list of Things to Do.

Tonight as we were cleaning up from dinner, The Beast casually mentioned that he noticed this evening that L&G's wife is now sporting a cast on her arm. We both made the leap from Sunday to 'cast on arm' in an eyeblink.

Shit.

Maybe she fell.

Maybe I'll win the lottery. hah

No one's been on their porch the last couple of (really beautiful) nights.

I guess we will let his wife know that she's always welcome to 'visit' at the drop of a hat, night or day. Beyond that, well.... He's a jerk. I'm just 100% sure of how much of a jerk.

I will be watching. And listening. But it's up to her to avail herself of our hospitality if she needs it. We'll see.

Gotta love the 'burbs. Or maybe not.