Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we watch the world go crazy and just laugh, because we're all going to die some day, so why get lathered up?
My family lives in a place called Snobville, which, as you might imagine, is a bastion of the millionaire, with a few small fry thrown in -- so long as we're all white or Asian.
Mr. J and I moved to Snobville because it has good schools, and you can walk everywhere on real sidewalks. It's really nice to grab a bag and stroll to the grocery store or the post office. Like Mayberry. (Oh, I date myself!)
Downside of living in Snobville, Mr. J and I had to buy a really beat-up old house on a street where the houses are close together. Do you remember the opening credits for The Sopranos, where he drives through a neighborhood that's densely house-littered? That's us. I can smell my neighbor's cooking from her kitchen. And vice versa. Have to be careful about cursing, because there are little kids living on both sides of us now.
So. Little kids to the left, little kids to the right.
Friday I came home to see the place where I had put the dead possum red-taped. If you're a regular, you'll recall that I brought a roadkill possum to the edge of my property in the hopes of attracting some turkey vultures for the purposes of praise and worship.
Mission failure. The neighbor found the carcass, no doubt deemed it dangerous to his tot (nor do I blame him in this assessment), and probably called Animal Control.
My bad. I do not live in the country. I live on a suburban block that has twelve two-story houses. It was ridiculous for me to think I could entice my Gods to my abode.
Luckily, the neighbors don't suspect me of hauling around dead mammals. I saw them yesterday and did not get frosty glares or a tongue-lashing. Quite the opposite: They were all smiles. Bullet dodged.
A bitter disappointment. The way I feel about buzzards, I was really, really hoping to have one in my front yard, if only for a few hours.
Oh well, la di dah. Disappointment to the right, happy surprise to the left.
Just a few weeks ago, a new family moved into the house next door. This family has two tots. One morning I went out to go to work, and -- oh my Bored Gods! -- This family had created a terrific Crazy Halloween House! They have ghosts hanging from the trees, and huge spider webs with neon-green spiders, and a few faux grave stones. Wowsa! I've always wanted to do that, but this year I was hard-pressed to buy a single pumpkin!
Good will prevails on all sides of Chateau Johnson these days. Neighbors to the right don't know I threw a possum in the ivy. Neighbors to the left do know that I heartily endorse their Crazy Halloween House.
Considering that I curse more and more these days, it might be the right moment for a block party. Before everything goes south and the vultures really come.