What my current neighbors
should have done, is tossed the whole t-bone steak right onto my plate. That would have been a friendly gesture
.
As it is, I'm just lucky I didn't get my arm taken off trying to take the remnants from those two-- bones are contraband for the guarders, which just happens to be Simon and Robin
. And, actually, we're on poop watch for a few days because we didn't realize Simon had any for a few minutes; who knows whether he manages to choke any of it down.
Those apartments are small and generally no trouble at all. But every once in a while, this one particular set of folks has a fight and we get to listen in on some awesome (read: depressing) parking-lot, redneck cell-phone conversations from our porch.
"You have to tell him he's the daddy."
"You can't be doing that stuff while you're pregnant."
"Let me back in! Someone call the police! Domestic abuse!" (domestic abuse...from the other side of the door? while dude is apparently trying to get his things and leave? hmm... maybe it is, who am I to say, but that lady seems to be at the center of all this. and she seems a little nuts.)
Anyway, I think someone over there was cooking out and tossed their scraps over for the hounds.
"In these bodies, we will live; in these bodies we will die.
Where you invest your love, you invest your life." --Marcus Mumford
--Amalie