Neighbors

One reason we moved to the country was to get away from annoying neighbors. It is far too easy for neighbors to become stalkers, and stalkers are really not my thing. They would creep on me by waiting for me to walk outside, and then tell me all about their wonderful (but oh so ugly) kids. I hate kids even more than neighbors, and they couldn't figure out that I just didn't care.

I'm happy to say that we have very few neighbors out in the boonies. However, as luck would have it, the man who lives closest to us has a tank. Yes, an army tank.  It makes for a great conversation starter, but I'm just waiting to come home to a demolished house.

During the summer, this neighbor likes to  spend his Saturday mornings joy-riding his tank in the field right above ours. It obviously had working guns, because I get 'Nam flashbacks, and I've never even been to 'Nam. I do enjoy firearms though, and am hoping to someday ride in this machine.


Until then, I am stocking up on earplugs, and have added building a bombshelter on my honey-do list.