October 25, 2005 - Tuesday | 8:26 AM, CST

My neighbor is selling ten acres of his land for sixty-five thousand dollars. But mind you that this ten acres is a one hundred thirty-five foot stretch of land that cuts through his pasture and woods, and ends at the farmer's field on the other side of the creek. Thats pretty narrow, if you ask me.

The day the sign went up I went to the realtor with a list of questions. I have been keeping an eye out on my neighbor's pasture for quite some time now, hoping that I could maybe get two or three acres as I'd eventually like to purchase a horse. Unfortunately, since the ten acres is zoned as residential he cannot subdivide it to sell of two or three. This also means that if the land does sell, I will have a neighbor about fifty feet away from my house.

Yeah. Thats going to suck.

And knowing my luck it'll probably be some goose stepping Chicago idiot that won't hesitate calling the police when I step outside naked to fire a few rounds from my shotgun into the air. I should buy a long, stringy whig of dirty hair and greet any prospective buyers wearing nothing but a ragged pair of overalls, warning that there are aliens in the woods practicing voodoo mind control on the cows and young virgins in the area. I know their secret, but the county board won't listen to me.

Across the road another neighbor sold his cabin and woods to some city folks. Last I heard he caught them tresspassing on someone else's land tearing up the ground with ATV's.

It didn't help my sour mood that four of the neighbor's cows escaped over the weekend. Of course he wasn't home, and since they were meandering in the road I felt I should probably do something about it. Normally I wouldn't mind helping out, but I didn't feel like being charitable after learning I'd have a bunch of cityboy commies moving in next door. I didn't want to have some dumbass crash in my front yard with a paralyzed cow crawling about, so I searched the neighbor's shed for some wire and made some extremely shoddy repairs to his rotting fence.

I showed him what I'd done yesterday, and he set about fixing it, but when I came home from work this morning I saw that the same wire and rotting wood I'd used as a patch was still doing the job. What really freaked me out was how he kept patting me on the back and saying "How lucky I am to have a good neighbor like you." I don't normally mind a pat on the back... but four or five? And with rubbing? I mean... should I ask him out or something? He's nearly in his eighties, so it'd be pretty strange. Normally any Matthew-related touching that lasts longer than one second is a strict violation of my purple circle. But maybe I'm just reading too much into this.

C'est la vie!

I went to the Mary Roff home this weekend. They were putting on a haunted house for Halloween and a walk-through was five dollars. I assumed they'd have a tour and maybe a few of the actors from the troup that owns the house would re-enact a couple of scenes from the book. I was sorely disappointed to find the haunted house nothing but a bunch of very annoying people hiding in dark corners and jumping out at you with fog horns. No fucking wonder people get startled. They had a cardboard cemetery out back that included the headstone of the cat Mary killed. It was very tacky, and I almost want to say bordering on disrespectful the way they had everything set up. I wouldn't recommend it.

I also made tacos a few days ago. I invited William, since he is the only other person around who enjoys spicy tacos, but he had to work. Where are Zach and Nathan when you need them?

grokkings

I like guns.

different crap

Ghost hunting    7/23/02

other people

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