Crazy Ass Neighbors

I'm tired. I'm pissed. I'm in a foul mood. Cause I'm whipped. That wedding last night really did a number on me. So I don't need neighbors playing stoopid jokes on me and my family.

I was putting Katherine to bed tonight (she was screaming something fierce) and getting Andrew in his pjs. Oh, and I was also cleaning the bathroom and putting away the kids clean clothes. (I know. I do it ALL. And I do it well).

The doorbell rang. Since it was pitch black outside and a Sunday I figured it couldn't be a window salesman, or an "I'm trying to get to Cancun and get laid this Spring Break could you buy some magazines from me so I can get a free trip?" salesperson.

Now any Mom will tell you that anyone who interrupts her routine is begging for a beat down. I mean a real flat line.

I dropped everything, ran downstairs, flicked on the porch light and there's nobody there. Instead, there's a deader than dead hanging basket sitting in the middle of the porch. It has to be at least 6 months old. It's all wilted and rotted out.

Whatever. Whoever did it and thought it was funny, well it wasn't. You're annoying. You need friends. Better yet, you need a couple of kids to keep you busy in the evening so you have no time to yourself like the rest of us.

I will find this dirt and lay into him. I say 'him' cause I know a female wouldn't do this crap.