Don't Go Away Mad, Just Go Away

When I was at my Dad's house the other weekend, I was reveling in his ability not to care what other people think. It is something I aspire to do, but only sometimes achieve.

Take, for example, his pithy door mat.

It made me smirk as soon as he opened the door when I arrived. I also like the typewriter style font. I would get one for our doorstep, but sadly, we don't need a mat because we live in an apartment with interior halls. Perhaps I could make some kind of country kitsch wall decoration to hang on the door that says, "Leave" instead of "Welcome Friends". 

The other sign that made me chuckle was on the window of my Dad's car.

The sign says, "NOT a Volkswagen. NOT yet restored. NOT FOR SALE." If you want to offend him, ask him if his car is a Bug. It most certainly is not. It is actually a Citroen 2CV Dolly that he got in 1987 when I was in eighth grade. It needs some work now, but when it is restored, it will once again be a sweet ride.

While I was visiting, my Dad was kvetching about his neighbor that frequently stares into the back yard. Harry, the neighbor, doesn't get out much. He is old and has to tow an oxygen tank around with him because he has emphysema. This health development doesn't stop him from smoking, however. He happily puffs away while connected to the oxygen. I was pretty sure he was going to blow himself to smithereens at any moment, but that hasn't happened so far.

Anyway, Harry didn't heed the "Leave" doormat and continued to stare, which incensed my Dad. So my Dad built a sort of fence extender. He basically tacked on some boards to the existing fence to make a super-sized 6 foot fence. The yard isn't exactly a Zen garden, so I'm thinking Harry might be glad to have his view blocked. My brother said it is like the reverse keyhole that Kramer had installed in that one episode of Seinfeld.

I haven't heard any new developments on the fence situation, so I'm guessing the fence extender solved the staring problem.

We don't have a fence here, but we live on the sixth floor, so nobody can stare at me. The main thing that drives me nuts is when the people downstairs play their boom boom stereo. Then I hop on the floor until A)They get the message or B)Aaron asks me to stop jumping around because that's more annoying than the bass on stereo.

I look forward to someday owning a house where I can build tall fences, have amusing messages on my porch and vehicle and basically put everything in the fuck-it bucket without worry about what everyone else will think.