We’ve been in this house almost two months now. I love it, five acres and a lovely home. Great place to raise my kids.

Then i met the neighbor across the road. Turns out, his daughter lives to our left, nephew to our right, sister two houses one way, brother three houses the other way. Not uncommon, but still interesting to learn. The guy’s 82, but looks and acts like he’s 60. He is also the most racist, sexist person i’ve ever met.

He told us our yard is to be mowed every five days (this is farmland, there is no HOA, and my “yard” is hay field we are baling). That i am not to address him directly, but to have my husband call or go through his wife if we need anything. He said i should grow my hair out as to look more motherly. I just smiled and nodded, attributing his attitude to age.

Days later, a knock on the door. Gentleman introduces himself as neighbor diagonally across the street. Hands me a bible, says everyone on the street attends a certain church. His smile is all teeth. Everything about him screams sleazeball. Turns, still grinning, to walk down my porch steps saying, “See you there Sunday.” Before i can answer.

Saturday, my husband is outside when a car pulls up. First neighbors wife WALKS RIGHT INTO MY HOUSE like she owns the place, gasps at the halloween decorations, and asks to speak “to the woman of the house” privately outside. “Yeah, outside sounds like a great idea,” i snapped, more than a little agitated. Again, i consider age.

Among the topics were:

You need to mow the yard.

My husband is going to tell yours that you’ve been driving and walking out of the yard to get the mail.

You need to take down those skeletons, they’re vulgar.

I will be babysitting your infant son twice a week for five hours, since he is the first (shit you not, her exact words) fresh blood in the area in a long time.

At this point, my mama bear becomes way stronger than my southern manners so i stand up and tell her to leave. She seems unphased, telling me i need to be more ladylike so i tell her, “Leave or i call the cops.” She huffs, and leaves.

She or her husband have parked in the road and stared down my house twice now. The church fellow has left us hand written letters in our mail every week since the first sunday, “We missed you at church this sunday, you need to be there this week.”

I already went to the (bumfuck, backwoods, useless) cops for whatever good it did me.

I feel like i moved into the Wrong Turn movies.

Weird neighbors, lets quit meeting.



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