I hate our neighborhood. With a passion. This is by far the worst place I have ever lived. Even the crappy apartment I lived in during graduate school was in a nicer neighborhood and the people were friendly.
We woke up this morning to find a wet bag of dog shit on top of my husband's truck. The asshole who left it even went so far as to stamp and design (I kid you not) a sweet little note and attach it with a button and curly cue ribbon.
My husband is the only idiot on this damn block who scoops his dog's poop. He has been doing it for the past seven miserable years. Every other schmuck who lives here walks their damn dogs down to the end of the cul-de-sac, into our yard, makes them take a squat, and my husband has to pick up after them as well. This is what we get for being courteous.
I have a pretty good idea who did it. Ironically, they just let their damn pit bull run all over the neighborhood terrorizing all the children and shitting all over our yards. WHEN will my husband realize that we need to move? I hate this place.
Your Life Experiences Do Not Invalidate Reality
4 hours ago