And we have curtains. Sort of. I can say most of our windows are covered for now, keeping prying freaky teenage eyes out of my house for the time being. Remember the squatters from last week? You’ll never guess where they’re sleeping now- My DAD’S YARD! IN A TENT! I’m not sure I’m OK with what an unbelievable softy the man is. I am positive he was much scarier when I was a teenager, and this is just not fair.
So the kids, they’re feeling pretty familiar with the area and especially our property, as evidence by their loud crash through the brush (did I say ON MY PROPERTY IN MY BACKYARD?), sans flashlights and of course dressed in all black, three of them, at 8 p.m. I’m standing in my back yard waiting for M to lock up the house and unlock the car (because now that we live in the fucking COUNTRY, we have to lock our car when we go inside our house for even 15 minutes. Love it here.) And I hear what can only be described as a ruckus coming from the brush just outside reach of the floodlights. Oh no! A Boar? A deer? A HUGE dog? A home invader? Get the rifle! And then out they pour into my backyard and walk up asking for my brother. Um, no, fuckheads, my BROTHER DOESN’T LIVE HERE and also? NO TRESPASSING!
My feeling is that these jackholes lost their privilege to use my yard as a shortcut and to step foot in my house, when they snuck in and SMOKED in my brand new house, in my daughter’s room, and threw their lit cigarettes onto the plywood floor. Perhaps the story of the crazy pregnant lady hasn’t made the rounds yet. I have to say, Internet- I worry for the safety of homeless kids dressed all in black skulking around my yard. I’m a trigger-happy lady these days.