I fear for my new neighbors
A little background. As of this very moment, We have lived in our current residence for 23 years and 1 month. Exactly. Prior to this year, of all the houses nearest to us, only 1 has been sold/bought and even that was over 10 years ago. Last year the owner of the house to my east passed. Cancer, x2. She was a tough old bird and stretched her second bout with cancer from an 18 month sentence into well over 5 years.
Her 59 year old son (Scott) inherited the house. He was trying to decide if he wanted to rent it (NO, NO!!!) or sell it and hold the mortgage. He had some minor repairs done, repainted the interior and was about to tackle the kitchen. Even did an estate sale and got rid of a TON of his Mom’s stuff.
Then his girlfriend found him dead at his computer one morning. Jeanette, being a girlfriend and not mentioned in the deed, was left to her own devices. She had a house and was not destitute by any stretch. She smoked Hav-a-Tampa cigars and apparently disliked bra’s. Not that I noticed. Much.
Anyhow. The house now fell to Scott’s 3 cousins, all out of state. Eventually the kitchen was re-modeled and the house was sold. Almost. I was doing some spring clean-up earlier this year and happened to talk to a couple that had just done a walk through of the house with a realtor. Apparently I did a hell of a sales job on the neighborhood because they put in an offer. The offer was accepted. But during the closing process (painful here in NY) one of the 3 cousins passed away and that threw a monkey wrench into the title search. Took an extra 6 weeks to straighten that out.
About a month ago, that couple FINALLY got to move in. They have weird schedules, people are coming and going all the time, but it’s not my life and they’re plenty quiet. However this weekend I noticed different people over there. Some dumpy guy with his pants way south of his butt and always a cigarette lit, and a really skinny gal in a sundress. And 5 kids under 6 years old. So that was pretty entertaining, trying to figure that out.
Then last night, I noticed the two older kids dragging dead branches out of the woods and putting them into the dog run attached to the back of the house. Odd. Then I noticed the adult male in the dog run spraying something on the wood and half dead leaves. He was spraying a LOT of what ever it was. He disappeared into the garage then came out and arranged the wood into what looked like a pile for a campfire – which was confirmed when he tried to LIGHT the wood inside the dog run, in a pile not 4 feet from the house.
Well, what ever he used wasn’t very flammable. I could see the flames gutter out. Then he disappered into the garage again and came out with a gas can. Yes, a gas can. He poured that all over his sad looking campfire. At least had the sense to take the gas can back in the garage before he came back out and lit the pile of wood on fire. The pile of wood that was not 4 feet from the house.
All the kids and the skinny female adult were all standing around watching this “catastrophe in progress”. I’d had plenty by that point. I had been watching all this from my back porch (i.e. our summer living room – covered, screened, TV, fridge, 384sq. ft. of summer enjoyment), not 50 feet from the that dog run. I got my shoes on, walked over and asked him what he was doing.
I pointed out that the town we are in does not allow open fires like that.
He said “well I was gong to put rocks around it”
Me: “The only rocks around here are around my pond. You aren’t using those. And there are no rocks around it now, so – it’s an open fire.”
Idiot: “But it’s on a concrete pad!”
Me: “Open fire. Needs to be in an approved fire pit, steel pan, screened, lid. And you’re 3 feet from the house! Put it out now!”
Idiot: “But, but in my town . . .”
Me: Pointing across my back yard- “That’s the local fire house right there, not 200 feet away. Should I get them?”
Idiot: ” But . . .”
Me: “Put it out, now. You start THIS house on fire you’re putting my house at risk. Oh – and where are Paul & Randi?”
Idiot: “They’re on vacation. Randi is my sister”
Me: “So you’re house sitting?”
I left at that point because I was about to laugh in his face and call him a fucking idiot in front of skinny bitch and the kids. I did look over there later and noticed that he’d drowned his mistake in plenty of water.
I just can’t believe a supposed adult can’t see the problem with having a freakin’ campfire that close to a house! Hope I get to talk with Paul and Randi when they get back. They’ll have questions about the scorch marks on the concrete and how their canopied love seat swing in the back yard got busted. Yep – I saw that one too. Randi is going to hate her nephews.