Sunday, February 13, 2011

Don't mess with me when I'm Crotchety!

Like I said yesterday, J and I are both super-sick at the moment.  Not the kind of sick where you can still function and do easy things like, oh, washing the dishes.  No, we're the kind of sick where, when I threw up on the floor overnight on Thursday, we threw a towel over it, and still haven't cleaned that mess up yet (in my defense, it was all just the cranberry juice I was drinking overnight, so it's just going to be a nasty carpet stain - it's not like there's solid particles of puke there or something).

We're also crabby.

Which is shining a light on the fact that I'm becoming slightly more crabby and crotchety as I get older.  Here's a fun example:

We live in the mountains, and our neighbors on both sides are part-timers (ie, they come up in the summer, or they come up once a month).  Hence, we get used to being on our own.  Plus, beyond the house to our right is all national forest where the bears live, so we get used to the quiet, and we like it.  We like our neighbors when they're up too, you know, but we kind of have this thing, like we own the entire place, and when they come up, they're kind of infringing on our space.

So J's mom came up to help us for a few days last week, seeing as how we're so sick (she's an angel), and we had parked one of the cars in the neighbor's lot so she had a place to park.  Then she left on Friday afternoon and we went back to sleeping.  Until we look out our open bedroom window (a giant window which we always keep open because there's no one living over there to see anything, duh) and there are strangers walking up and down the neighbor's steps.  And, they had the nerve to park us in.

Well, this just sets us both off.  Now we have to close our blinds for strangers?  And who said they could come up and park us in, in a driveway that's not ours, anyway?

J texts the neighbor:  "are you guys renting out your cabin to strangers for weekends now or something?"
He calls immediately, having no idea what's going on or what we mean.  J tells him there are two cars worth of people, and lots of cases of beer, walking up his steps at that very moment.  He makes some calls, and then texts back, "friends of friends."

Who does that?  Who says, "hey, I hear you have friends who have a place in the mountains.  Do you think they'd let us stay there, even though we never met them, cuz, you know, we want to go snowboarding?"

And then, who says yes to that?

So all weekend we had to close our bedroom blinds because friends of friends were inhabiting the neighbors' cabin.  Plus, I couldn't take my lovely Sunday-afternoon-lots-of-light-streaming-in bath that I love because their kitchen window looks right down into our bathroom.


Plus, I've used up all the kleenexes in the entire house, and am now using toilet paper to blow my nose.  And it hurts, dammit.

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