Yeah, that's B., the crazy f*ck who lives next door. On Sunday, he was out wandering the neighborhood in the rain. (I don't know what he's got in his hand; his diary, maybe. Before the sh*t hit the fan last week, his wife told me that he's now writing down every. single. thing. that he does, every day.) I kind of half-hoped he'd wander over to the creek and drown, which just goes to show how upset this whole fiasco has made me. I'm seriously considering a fence at this point. I have had it with ol' crazy-a**.
Isn't it terrible that instead of feeling sorry for this obviously disturbed man, instead I feel anger? I just ... I have no compassion for him. None. I just want him to stay the f*ck away from me. That's awful, I know it. It's just ... he refuses to take his meds, he refuses to stop drinking, he kept drinking and DRIVING until a judge finally pulled his license, then he barged into MY house last week to spew his crazy all over MY place, and it's just ...gah. Just ... go get help, dude. YOU NEED IT.
And in proof that crazy does not, in fact, skip generations, his son was over at B.'s house last night, mowing the lawn. On the riding mower, with no headlight, in the dark. Mowing. For over an hour.
Did I mention it was dark out? And that it's November, meaning that no mowing needs to be done? AND IT WAS DARK OUT?
I want my old, quiet neighborhood back. That's all.
5 comments:
I would bet that his son was trying to soothe dad's manic anxiety about the lawn by going out and riding around for a while (in the dark, with the blade up) to help manage the cray-cray. -- bridgett
By the way, has anyone suggested that he be checked out for Alzheimer's related confusion/psychosis? He sounds like he's sundowning (all hell broke loose right around the time change, right?) and the writing everything down suggests that he knows that stuff isn't right in his head and he's doing an external check. Just a thought. -- bridgett
I'm with Bridgett, son might have thought --listen to dad harp or go pretend mow the lawn--lawn wins.
Good points, guys.
His wife, L., did come over to apologize last night. I'm thinking that it's HIM who should be doing the apologizing, but whatevs. I told her that they need to get things straightened out themselves, and not to involve me any more. Supposedly he's got an appointment with a psychiatrist this Friday, who will hopefully set him straight on the importance of STAYING ON YOUR MEDS.
Then again, I know how it goes with mental illness - you get feeling fine, and then you decide you don't need the meds anymore, and then you get sick again, and yadayadayada.
Of course, if it IS Alzheimer's, this could be just the BEGINNING of the crazy. *shudder*
And in the "Oh wait, it gets better" department, I just got home from work to see B. out in his driveway with a hose, washing L.'s car.
It's twenty-eight degrees out right now.
Post a Comment