A Worthless Vent by Just-Peachy.
Me: Frumpy 40 year old mom to toddlersaurus.
Her: J-Crewy (yes it's a word, I made it up) sing/songy cookie cutter airy skinny perfect neighbor with 3 boys ages 11 mos. - 6. Perfect husband, Perfect kids, Makes friends with Everyone...and is always "UP" like "up with people" kind of up...like annoying overly enthusiastic, saccharine sweet, "everything's awesome!" kind of up. The kind that looks perfect with no makeup and has plenty of girlfriends that come over for mom-cocktails. You know the type.
We chat from time to time over the fence (which I wish was made out of the thickest of thick bamboo known to the planet), and she is always "Well hellooooo!!!" like she is singing an intro from a very happy Glee episode.
When I went over to her lawn at the beginning of the summer to chit chat, Jimmy was running around her uneven payment and fell face first onto the ground. He started to cry but wasn't hurt. I gently said to him "Careful, careful, honey....slow down"
Her response? She looked at me with this fake pouty lip and said: "Say...I'm just a toddler mom....I can't help if I want to run...and fall sometimes...it's what toddlers do. Let me have my fun!"
I was like....WHAT THE FLECK???? Of course that's what toddlers do, thanks for the patronization, skinny wench. But I let it go because I'm good like that.
Then we talked over the fence about random crap, like how hot it is and how are the kids kinda talk and we started talking about bedtimes.
Me: "Jimmy usually goes down between 7:30 - 9...usually 8:30 is when he falls asleep"
Her: "Woooow...that's really late! (consternation voice) (My boys always go down at 6:30. I guess because they are so active during the day, ya know?"
Ok, I thought...that's great for her but why did she have to add the whole "Wow, that's really late..." preface to her comment. Ok, I'm being overly sensitive.
Today she is walking by with her baby in the stroller and her two boys walking ahead of her. She was going to the playground.
My husband was getting into his truck leaving for work.
"Hey, how are you?" my husband said
"I'm just great!!! How are youuuu????" (her head cocked to the side and her little yippee skippee I'm perfect smile showing). I could hear the conversation from my door and I immediately was going into a diabetic shock from the pitch of her voice.
"Doin good....Everything ok from the hurricane?" my husband sincerely yet naievely asked.
"Oh yeaaaah (pitch in voice as if she was going to put her hand out like "pish posh...hurricane schmurricane")....we had no problems....how bout you?"
Now, for the last 3 days the entire town has practically watched us pump Niagra Falls from our basement...the sound of the generator can be heard 200 miles away for pete's sake. We have been emptying buckets of water onto our lawn....which looked like a swamp.
My husband and I have been hauling huge bag after bag out of the basement to trash. Our houses are about 20 feet away from one another.
Really? REALLY? you have to ask how we are doing? We've been dredging ourselves out for the last 72 hours and you have the nerve to ask how we are doing?
You damn well know her and her hubs were down in the basement the night of the hurricane shop vac(ing) every drop of water that came in until the power went out....That's what perfect, organized people do.
How is it that everyone else in the hood is putting out rolled up carpet padding, boxes and junk that collected in the basement and her house was spared the wrath of God?
This rant has no purpose to it at all. I don't hate her. Well, maybe a little.
She just annoys me a lot.
Ok, that's all.
Vent over (for now).