birds in a barrel's mission is to release creative nonfiction into the wild.

40 Days & 40 Writes is its first project.

Don't Talk To Crazy

From: Vox Anima June 2016.

I never know as I begin to write a blog post where it will end up, so here goes...

In a previous post, I wrote about our home, which we lovingly refer to as The Shire. We have put a lot of energy into reclaiming our 30's vintage cottage and our little acre. About 3 years ago, or so, a new tenant moved in next door, which, THANK GOD, is a few hundred yards, or so away from our door.

It all began with pushing property boundary lines. Spreading out wood piles on our place. Politely, we asked tenant to remove and explain. Twice.

Soon, large accumulations of what I will call cr@p appeared. Tents were erected for said cr@p. Tent city. Soon, yard sale after yard sale after yard sale.

(I have nothing against yard sales!)
(I have had my own!)
(Yard sales can be fun!)
(Yard sales can be neighborly!)
(I even purchased a gorgeous oval mirror from one today!)

Meanwhile (and this was before the new pot laws), an outdoor plastic lined "building" with grow lights was working overtime to grow you know what.

Strange traffic coming and going, transactions going down, domestic violence, theft--you name it was right there in full view.

The Shadow on Parade.

As growing marijuana became passe', methamphetamine was being cooked up, and a daily special on the menu.

After two years of this, I had had enough.
We filed a complaint with our little city.
It was a legit complaint about the yard sales.

(The rest was tricky, because, as I suspect, some in law enforcement were good customers.)

I complained, and complained.

I called PD for every "domestic" that came down.
My PD's phone number was listed as a "favorite" on my iPhones' contact list.

Eventually, tenant was fined for noncompliance with a city ordinance. Tenant promptly tore up the $500 ticket in front of the police officer. This cooled tenant's jets--for awhile.

It's yard sale/crazytown time again!!

Prepared from last year's terrorism, we formed our strategy: Warn tenant. Document, document, document. Photograph.

During yesterday's photo shoot, I met Crazy face to face.

If you saw what I saw, you would have seen open eyes, with nobody there. I restated the law on Crazy's deaf ears. (waste of effort)

After yesterday's "event" each and every time we leave our private driveway, we get the middle finger salute! Lovely.

In good faith , I left the situation reviewing what happened, and what were MY projections, triggers, etc...

I had a bullying, abusive, drug crazed sister who took things out on me. I had no protection. That was then, this is is now. I will NOT be bullied! I will NOT be afraid in my home, my sanctuary, my Shire! That is all.

April 17, 2018 Update:

Said tenant is still there.

I put up Prayer Flags and Feng Shui mirrors outdoors to repel negative energy, because other efforts appear to be futile. I had fantasies of getting a junk yard dog for the express purposes of guarding our property. No go, too soft hearted.

The yard sales have slowed down to the allowed 3 per year.

Tenant still conducts illegal business from the home more quietly.
We figure she will be the one to do herself in. And by appearances, the meth is doing its job nicely.

The fight isn't over, it simmers on a very small flame on the backburner, easily ignited by random, crazy behavior.

(Disclosure: I did not edit the blog post cited in this writing)

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid