Dear White Trash Neighbor,
My husband mentioned to me the other day that I should not be referring to you as "white trash." Though the name might be fitting, there are just some things we should only say to our spouses, who have to love us no matter what because we know each other's nasty secrets. When I pointed out that all of my secrets are splattered all over my blog, he shrugged. Because it seemed I'd finally won an argument between us, I instantly became suspicious that he may be plotting a secret secret reveal that includes you in some way, as you started the whole thing. But then, someone sent me a link to a television show called "Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo" and I realized that he was right all along, it's not very kind to call you "white trash." So, as homage to your apparent idol, Miss Boo-Boo, I will from here on out call you Redneck Neighbor.
So, Redneck Neighbor, a little congratulations is in order. You've been living with your sister and mother now for two months and I haven't once seen a police car, ambulance, or fire truck. My sisters are co-habitating for a while--the small abode now housing 5 children and 3 adults, nearly alike to your own situation. And the nicest thing I can say about that is they are all still alive.
Another congratulations is due you--even in this struggling economy you managed to pull off a successful yard sale. I have to admit, it was the first time I've ever seen anyone use their actual yard for a yard sale. It really bothers me when people put everything in the garage and call it a yard sale. Or they pile things into the driveway and call it a garage sale. Um, no. That's a driveway sale. I didn't mind at all that shoppers used our driveway to park--I didn't have anywhere to go for six hours last Saturday.
Though, I'm still perplexed as to why all of the unsold teddy bears, bright plastic toys, and piles of clothes are still occupying your yard. Are you planning on having another sale soon? Should I go ahead and park my car on the street in case I need to leave? If another sale is in the works, I wonder if you've noticed the weather? There's a hurricane brewing just south of us, and the rain that's been coming down since Monday is a result. I don't know how successful you'll be at selling soggy goods, though someone may buy the tires you left in the flower bed, after all they're meant to get wet. But who am I to tell you how to run a yard sale, as I've never before seen one and last Saturday was such a huge success. I hope you generated enough money to buy all of those school uniforms--sorry, I couldn't help overhear, your voice does love to travel.
I do have one suggestion, though, for the impending second sale. That huge hole on the far side of your driveway, you know the one? It's just before you get to what used to be a bed of knockout roses but is now an overgrown tangle of dead vines. I'd fill that in. Sure no one stepped in it last time, but why tempt fate twice? I'd hate for your good fortune to be ruined by a lawsuit of some kind. I'd also hate to see little Johnny, or one of the "K" girls, suddenly disappear.
Of course, if you've left everything out in order to create yard art, I commend you even more. Our prissy neighborhood could use some sprucing up. A plastic toddler bed, strewn in among struggling day lilies, is the exact sort of avant-garde display these tired, manicured yards need.
Always,
Your Neighbor Who (Really) Doesn't Mind People Parking in Her Driveway for the Sake of Your Good Fortune
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