I may have just crossed the line of appropriateness with the neighborhood hooligans that walk by my balcony on their way to loiter on the picnic tables in the parka cross the street. The 11 year old bitchy leader of the crew just walked by and says to her posse (and I’ll use that term very lightly) “See, lookit. She just be sittin’ in there not doing anything about it” in reference to how my dog barks at their dopey asses when they walk by.
And she’s right. I can sit at my desk and watch them as they all scamper by when Riley gets all bent out of shape. It used to be entertainment for me, then it went to annoying, and now I just don’t give a shit. Me not giving a shit is what prompted me to flip the little skank off. Sure, not my most shining moment in the land of maturity, but I’m still waiting for that paintball gun to show up so I can snipe their little asses.
I may come home tonight with eggs and/or their empty bottles of Vess soda on my deck, but that’s fine. I’ll win this little battle eventually. I just have to figure out how.