Across the street from our house are a row of houses, all inhabited by families with little kids. There are a lot of kiddie sounds wafting through our open windows when it’s nice out, and it is a bonafide ruckus a lot of the time, but as I grew up in a neighborhood where there were always rugrats running the streets, I love this sound.
One family across the street from us is a family of folks we like to call the Weasleys. The reason we call them that is that there is a neverending string of little red-haired boys from teeny tiny to teenage, with a tousled-looking red-haired dad and a tired-looking auburn haired mom. The only thing they are missing is a Ginny. (And by the way, I was telling this whole thing to a friend of mine who had no idea who the Weasleys are and what kind of planet are they on, can I ask you? How did I manage to collect such a non-geeky friend?) The Weasleys are always doing things that crack my shit up. Yesterday? I came home from work and as I was walking up the sidewalk, a little Weasley boy (about 8 years old) was challenging his older Weasley brother (about 13) with a toy light saber. As he did, he was yelling out, with full lisp: “DO YOU WANT A PEETH OF ME? DO YOU WANT A PEETH OF ME????”
In other neighborhood news, we have this gigantic deck outside of our front door which we can’t use, because (a) Nordic Boy has had to strip it so that it can be waterproofed which took all summer, (b) it overlooks the next door neighbor’s house from hell and so Nordic Boy has to build a trellis to block the hideous view, and (c) the deck is of lower home renovation priority and so Nordic Boy uses it to rig up all his tools and materials for more important projects which means there isn’t any room for me to put out patio furniture or anything. At any rate (wow, that was a long preface for the small point I am about to make), as part of the waterproofing process, Nordic Boy stripped off these rubber strips that were glued to the deck floor by the previous owners (because nothing says “let’s have a barbecue!” like hot black rubber strips as a flooring), leaving bits of tar on the cement floor. We can’t put any new decking on that cement without getting rid of all the tar bits, which Nordic Boy could do himself (because god forbid anyone else touch our house but him) but he figured out that this is one of those rare cases where having someone else do it is actually cheaper than him doing it (due to the cost of renting the equipment needed). So, GASP, we have hired contractors to clean the tar off the deck! ACTUAL OTHER PEOPLE WILL TOUCH OUR HOME.
This gives Nordic Boy such a rash, I can’t even tell you.
I am sort of expecting that if they mess anything up (Nordic Boy is the pickiest, most perfectionist mothereffer you will ever meet in your life) that he might need a light saber. YOU WANT A PEETH OF ME? DO YOU???