mr cellophane

So it snowed. So I got to shovel the driveway. And I had a very deep dilemma. See...sidewalks. How far do you shovel? On one side, I have that black line in the seam between the squares. It's nice. I mean, you know exactly where the property ends, and you stop right there. No problems. As long as you don't go over the line. Because that's just none of your damn business. The people next door to me spent good money on their riding snowblower, and they have every right to use it. I wouldn't want to take that away from them.

Of course, on the other side of my driveway, I don't have the luxury of having that little black line. And I really had no idea what to do. I mean, I kind of guesstimated and did a little over halfway to the next driveway. But I've been thinking ever since...that would really piss me off. It's like, "Oh, couldn't go the extra couple squares, huh asshole? Well, we'll just see what happens the next time you have an Amazon package sitting on your doorstep you lazy piece of shit."

I don't know. My neighborhood is a very odd place. I've lived in three subdivisions in my life. One very..."modest," one decently sized but still quaint, and my current upper-middle-class neighborhood. These people have four or five Holiday Trees (Conservative Christian: "IT BURNSSSSS!!!!") sitting in their windows. And pearly white baby grands. And, yes, they have riding snowblowers. They're some of the most smug, irritating people you'll ever meet. In contrast to the goodhearted people of Sharydale, where great late-night lawnchair gatherings happened just about every weekend. If anybody tried to pull that where I live now, the homeowner's association president's phone would be ringing off the hook.