Last night she spied hubby cleaning the pool. Not the simple vacuum job, but the wheelbarrel one that gets full of pine needles and branches and crud, which has now fermented into a slimey pea soup. This meant he had to walk in front of her house towards the creek to dump the stuff.
Cue nutcase. "I don't like your pump. Turn it off at night, or I get Julian to build a box cover, or I get legal".
"Not right now, I'm busy", hubby blurts, trying to avoid eye contact. Eye contact means at least a 5 minute conversation of 'yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, fuck you'.
"You say for four years you build a box, you not have one. It is noisy for me". Here is a short video (cam shot) of the SOUND of the pump, there is a noticeable HUMMM, but just barely.
*snicker, snicker* my body shivers in a sort of mellow chi as a recollect the heat of last night's slumber. But what squishy faced Romanian doesn't understand is that it costs a fortune to maintain the pool with all the chemicals and water treatments it needs to keep it clean.
Right now hubby is trimming, then he'll cut the grass. He's allowing the shock treatment to flush the green crud to the bottom of the pool to enable him to vacuum it away without clogging pipes, etc. The pump needs to circulate the water, it needs to be filtered constantly.
It's July 5th and the pool should have been cleaned up in May. But it has rained here in Vancouver every fucking weekend, or we've gone camping. We turned on the pump about a week ago for pete's sake, and she's right there in hubby's face, dictating.
We've mastered the "we're ignoring you" dance, after eight years we've come to know nutcase freakshow and all her little nuances, gestures and spy tactics. This year we plan to keep the pool pumping 24 FUCKING 7, straight through to Labour Day. Huh!
So let's guess, what has retard planned up her sleeve. Well, for one, I know she enlists the help of squishy faced Romanian daughter's boyfriend. Look what they did when we were camping on the long weekend, as was our buddy Norm across the street.
The City of Surrey has a fabulous "tree protection" law, and holy-moly, are they gonna get it. You just don't go cutting down huge tree branches off of park land. No, not ever, ever....and they did it so sneaky, like communists, grease balls they are. They cut off eight huge branches, now the tree looks bald. We could never see the trunk.
If I ever, ever, ever, catch faggotty Ann-Andrew on my property attempting to turn my pump off, it'll be the last time. Oh, the nickname, by the way, is because apparently nutcase fucktard's daughters (20 and 21) are christian v-i-r-g-i-n-s, good girls she brags and postures, they're beautiful, they go universityyyyy. Okay, you know what, commie, it's "they go TO university" okay, and quit telling me to "fuck on you"....it's "FUCK OFF". Okay, refuck.
So now I enjoy myself by telling faggotty Andrew to get laid, which probably pisses him off immensely, since he can't really defend himself by saying he get's laid all the time, right. So he just has to saunter off down nutcase's driveway, death rays shooting out of his eyes towards my huge grin and the flipped bird.
I hate 20 year boys who think they are men and know everything about everything. He tries to get into fist fight with hubby, except hubby can't participate, not that he'd LOVE to kick virgin ass, it's that he can't show up to work with black eyes, or scratches, or any signs of struggle. We have about $100,000 worth of toys. Faggotty-Andrew has nothing to lose.
We finished the yard work, watered all the hanging baskets and the lawn looks great. Our watering days are Wednesday and Saturday, but fucktard waters her grass nearly every day. I think I'll call the city, again, and get the By-law officers after them. Hmmm, what else can I do to make their miserable lives more memorable of me and my revenge.
Hey, I know, let the kidlens ride their ATV's in the street, get really close to her precious p-r-o-p-e-r-t-y, then yell out, "how'd ya sleep last night"?
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