Bad Fences

Look, Neighbor Lady: I know you hate us. I assume it's 'cause we're young, and 'cause sometimes there are people on our porch being loud until 5am, and 'cause our grass is Teh Long. And I know that I'm sitting on the front porch, drinking a beer at 6pm on a Sunday, while Beth is toiling away with the lawnmower. But you don't have to give me a dirty look.

After all, I've just toiled away for three hours in the hot, hot sun, painstakingly installing speakers in Beth's car. (I know, I said I'd do this a year ago.) And sure, I only got to the driver-side door. But these are component speakers! They require extra work! And dremelling! And I had to find some place to hide the crossover under the door panel, which is harder than it sounds! (And I'll do the other one tomorrow, Beth—promise!)

So, Neighbor Lady: keep your hate and your dirty looks on your side of the fence. And then we can be friends. Deal?