Say Goodbye To The Freak Show

I haven't blogged much lately, partly because I have been busy, and partly because what has been keeping me busy has me tearing my hair out.

About a month ago, my husband and I put our condo on the market, and, miraculously, it sold in just one day. Since then, our lives have been consumed with house-hunting and planning for the big move.

I do feel a bit sad to be leaving the home we've known for three years (almost four for him, as he bought the place not long after we started dating). It was our first home together, and we have so many great memories there. But, of course, we are looking forward to moving into a house, an actual house, with a fenced-in yard for Stella, a two-car garage for us and enough bedrooms to allow each of us to have our own office.

And it won't have McCrochety.

As glad as I am to be leaving him and his crochety ways behind, I can't help but want to make his life miserable until we move out. My husband and I are tired of being the bigger person; we have been the bigger person for years, and it's gotten us nothing but a banging broom handle. And even now, less than two weeks before moving day, he continues to take every chance he gets to complain.

Yesterday morning at about 5 a.m., Stella woke me up, whining to go outside. When I took her out, she began barking at a dog who had beat us to the yard. I lead her to a different spot to pee, and after taking care of business, we went back in. The whole affair took about three minutes but did not go unnoticed by McCrochety. When my husband stopped home for lunch, McCrochety took the opportunity to ask what the early morning barking was all about. My darling husband, who says about one catty thing a year and never looks crosseyed at anyone, simply shrugged and said, "don't know."

I can't be too upset with him for taking the high road. One day last week, I ran into McCrochety outside and said, "good morning" and smiled at the jerk. Ashamed as I am of the incident, in my defense, it was the first warm and sunny day in a long time; I was thrown off balance by nice weather.

But with yet another entry to the McCrochety logbook, I can't help but feel like my time is running out. We move out in approximately 10 days, and I have yet to get a chance to make any of those great speeches I have worked so hard to prepare. The best I've been able to do is stomp up the stairs extra loud and laugh when Stella spit out a twig she was chewing in front of his door.

I want my chance! I want justice! I want to be able to march right up to McCrochety and let him know exactly how miserable he has made us. I want him to realize what a complete jerk he has been.

Alternatively, I want to throw a week's worth of Stella poo at him and run away laughing.

I'm not sure if I will get the opportunity I've been waiting for. I may actually have to knock on his door on purpose, or leave a note (taped to a rock that I throw through his window? Tempting, but probably not altogether a good idea). But until moving day, I'll be ever hopeful for the opportunity to have my say. If anyone has any poitnant but legal ideas for me in the meantime, I will gladly take them.

If anyone has any poignant but illegal ideas, well, I can't help what you people do in your spare time.