Cranky-pants City Girl

14 05 2010

It is both sunny and lovely outside.  I have been in the sun today.  I have driven around in it.  I nearly blinded myself turning a corner because the lovely sunshine happened to catch my ring just so and it flashed right in my eye and then I had to drive around with that annoying little blue circle in your field of vision thing.  I feel sheepish about my bling, but apparently it’s how things are done in the south.  My suggestion that we return it and, say, buy a car instead was met with vehement opposition.  Since I can’t beat him at this game I’ve taken to secretly prancing about the house imagining that I’m Marylin Monroe and singing “diamonds are a girl’s best friend”.  Guess it’s not so secret now.  As a complete aside, I love all those old musical movies.  *sigh*


In this sunshiny happy day weather I have had yet another illustration of why I’m not always laid back about city life.  I don’t think you can grow up surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people and retain much feeling of privacy beyond that pervasive anonymity that comes with the stranger-ness culture of big cities.  Do you know your neighbours?  Arguably, most people who live in the city do not, and if by chance you do know them, it is as passing acquaintances, not much more.  We are all relatively speaking, strangers (maybe even in a strange land).


My gripe is that the crazy bat landlady (she really is a little dotty… and very curmudgeon-y) sent over a landscaper to hack down the “noxious” blackberry bushes at the far back of the yard.  I’m not sure who they bother, being that we live on a back road kind of street and there’s an unoccupied house on one side between us and the condos down the street, and on the other side there’s an auto-body shop.  Maybe cars don’t like blackberries.  At any rate the bushes had to go.  Sadly, she hired an overcharging incompetent ass to do the job for her.  First he attempted to bond with me over how the neighbourhood is crummy… until he realized I live here.  Then he proceeded to tell me that there was no way for him to preserve the vines that grow over the back fence and afford us a modicum of isolation from the alley like street behind the house.  He’d had to cut them down because the blackberry bushes had to go.  I’m reasonably sure, being that we’ve managed to do the job ourselves in previous years with a minimum of effort, that what he actually meant to say was “it would have taken me an extra five minutes that I didn’t feel like spending in order to save the vines”.  Insert several bullshit excuses after his original statement and I simply turn and walk away to go inside before saying something I would not regret but may have to pay for later.


Why the attachment to these little vines… They aren’t flowering, they aren’t ruffled leaf ivy… I think it’s just the idea that rather than have every looky-loo moron stare in to the yard I could actually be outside with a slight degree of privacy.  I love the convenience of living in a city, but I’m tired of 75% of the idiots who live in it with me.  I mean the kind of people that have to slow down to look at accidents that aren’t obstructing the flow of traffic in their lane at all, and thereby become obstructions themselves.  The kind of people who don’t know how to merge on to a freeway at speed.  The kind of people who seem to firmly believe that it is their God-given duty to ensure that they enforce their opinions and beliefs and prissy organization on everyone else.  I’m tired of the way my city seems to enjoy using taxpayer dollars to legislate mindless busywork.  Maybe this is all just a bitter rant against people with upper middle class pretensions who aren’t capable of 5 minutes of logical thought let alone displaying any degree of common sense.


My plan to solve this: moving from a city of about 60 thousand people to one with about 600 people.  Say hello to four acres outside a small town still within convenient driving distance of a big city.  “Hello four acres… How do I love thee? I can not even count all the ways…”

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