Six More Years

Okay, I reread my last post.  Don’t get me wrong…I don’t hate Mr. B.  I really like Mr. B.  He’s kind, generous and has a good sense of humor.  His wife is really nice and his kids are nice too.  I don’t hate my neighbors- I’m actually blessed with good neighbors for the most part. We put up with them and they put up with us and our stupid dogs.

My problem is I live too close to people.  Sixteen feet between houses is WAY too confined for someone who likes to walk around the house half undressed and absolutely hates curtains.  I need space.  Land to grow things and raise chickens and have a patio and a dog run and be able to make coffee without pants on.  I would never survive in an apartment building.  I would nuke the place.

Please don’t think I hate Mr. B.  I’m just touchy about my personal space.

So because Zombiegirl won’t move, I’m stuck on a shady 40′ x 100′ lot on Long Island.

The reason she doesn’t want to move is because she’ll miss her friends.  Her soccer friends, her neighborhood friends, her softball friends and her school friends.  The school friends she couldn’t wait to get back to today.The first day back to school with her cool skull backpack (made by me, last year) and turquoise hair.  So starts 7th grade, which means I only have six more years until I can skedaddle out of New York.

I may kill someone before then…

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