Crazy Neighbors

I don't think there has ever been a time when I didn't live next to some nut.  By nut, I mean insane.  Wacko.  Totally unbalanced.

Here is an example.

I once lived in a tiny apartment with my husband and two cats in a poopy neighborhood.  The rent was cheap, and we definitely got what we paid for.  The apartment was actually part of a house, and we had neighbors in said house.  None of them were pleasant, the people above us were always blaring sucky music and peeing out their window (one time they actually started a fire from throwing lit cigarettes out onto the very dry lawn), and the guy living behind us vomited very audibly (and rather violently) every single morning.  No joke- every damn day.  Maintenance guy said he was an alcoholic.

The lady who lived adjacent to us, however, was the one we dealt with on a daily basis.  And she was crazy. CRAZY.

She had a little bug-eyed dog named Butler.  Dogs were not allowed in this house.  Crazy Lady claimed he was a service animal.  So I guess by pooping everywhere and running away all the time, he provided some kind of service for her.  Right.

This woman had several visitors who would go into her apartment for about 5 minutes or less and then take off.  Crazy Lady was clearly either a drug dealer or a very efficient prostitute.  Her visitors would frequently ring our doorbell by mistake (which, by the way, was a horrible buzzing sound equivalent to a robot being raped), and we would have to direct them to her door.

Every interaction we had with Crazy Lady was confusing.  She didn't make a lick of sense.  We came home one day to see this outside the main door we share to the house:

So of course, that day we had a whole slew of people ringing #2, our doorbell, looking for Crazy Lady.  

Moral of the story: Don't be a drug dealer/hooker if you can't be available to your clients.  It's not fair to your neighbors.