Neighbors

New people moved in the house next door.

The house where previously lived a mother who belittled her kids and had only one setting: screaming.

The house where the game of Uno (thug edition) would run very late into the night, with overly excited players yelling obscenities to one another, to the point we thought the bullets would begin flying at any time.

This is the house where the siding has been partially ripped down, to reveal the original wood siding (without the benefit of paint), and where furniture has found a permanent home on the front porch. The sidewalk remained un-shoveled the entire winter, turning first into a sheet of ice, then into a mushy wet mess. This is the scary house on the block.

Our new neighbors look like regular people about our age. People who wouldn't get in an altercation over a game of cards, or who would constantly call their offspring stupid. People who will not keep their furniture on the porch. They even look like the kind of people who will fix up the place.

I should be happy we may have normal neighbors. But I'm not. A wee bit part of me wishes that house were still empty, sitting on the market for months on end - simply waiting for us to swoop in and buy it and a bargain basement discount.

UPDATE: a screaming taking place outside my front window has deviated my attention from coveting my neighbor's shitty house. Ah... nothing like living in the Heights.....