Timmy: Hi, Mom. Can you pick me up at 4am tomorrow at the Greyhound Bus Station downtown Atlanta? [Friend's] Mom died. We're all going to the funeral in Nashville [about 12 of them].
Mom: Okay. Where are you now?
Timmy: We're going to layover at Tampa for a day, then it'll only be two hours' drive to Atlanta [I swear he said this]. Mom, the people around here are scary.
Mom: Timmy. They couldn't possibly make you layover at Tampa for a whole day and you can't drive from Tampa to Atlanta in two hours unless it's you at the wheel. Do you know any geography at all? Florida is long and Georgia is long. Didn't you notice that on the drive down? And have you ever learned your months?
a few hours later:
Timmy: Hi, Mom.
Mom: How's it going?
Timmy: There's a strange man sitting next to me. He says his name is Tiger. He's covered all over with something. Can you drive down and meet the bus partway?
Mom: Ha ha I know you are just kidding.
Timmy: Mommy, save me.
Mom: Timmy. You are going to be a Marine. Think of this bus ride as a military maneuver in Odd Territory.
Timmy: Help me.
24 hours later after Timmy has caught up on sleep at home and shopped at Value Village for funeral clothes, since he has nothing black and nothing suitable actually of any kind:
Timmy: Look, Mom, we found four matching black vests, aren't they cool?
Mom: Oh, Timmy. You aren't going to wear those to the funeral [Mom envisions them in matching vests at the funeral, very possibly putting on some sort of musical revue]?
Timmy: Nah. Just wear them around at the hotel. Mom, where did these black pants come from [sporting unusually attractive black slacks]?? I found them in my room. I've never seen them before.
Mom [in sacred hushed tones]: Oh. God must have put them there. For you to wear to the funeral.
Timmy [in the same tone]: You're right. And the first girl who admires them will become my wife. [pause] [regular voice] Oh wait, these are from my Halloween costume.
So, it is a sad situation but Timmy and F., on their way at 6am to pick up the other friends and drive to Nashville. In their vests.
Neighbor Update: I do thank you all for your interest in my frustrating House Next Door situation. Found out from the County a few days ago that they have not had a valid business license since 2005 and have never had permission to operate out of a home. I am going to suggest that when Code Enforcement investigates a complaint like this that they either check for a valid license themselves or clue in the complainant that they should check on this. It could have saved me years of frustration.
Currently, they appear to have moved operations out of the house, although they are still coming home at night, of course, since they unfortunately own the house. Gaston the Housebound is sometimes not pleased at being kept in and has taken Tomcat-like steps to protest:
But still I keep him in and suffer the consequences.
Code Enforcement cited these company owners for some things, most important being the expired license. Another department is doing some work on this operating-without-a-license infraction. The Code Enforcement officer told me that the co-owner he spoke with threatened me with various things, the only thing of which he would state specifically is that they were going to sue me of course.
I think I mentioned I haven't been able to grow tomatoes in my tomato bed since they started filling my property with the diesel fumes, so yesterday I planted five for possible fall tomatoes as a victory measure. I feel like I'm reclaiming my yard: