crappy (but not too eventful) update

I realized (and I should have realized this a long time ago) that the contractor who was giving me such grief is actually not only the contractor on this project, but the owner as well. I was talking to my next door neighbor, who brought up the subject, and he reminded me that the short, balding pylon-obsessive is indeed the same person who paid nearly one million dollars for this tiny lot with a tiny house on it. (Incidentally my neighbor has also run over a pylon. "He's taking over the street!" complained my sweet-tempered neighbor).

This, to me, makes the contractor's behavior worse. He's not trying to please some fussy homeowner, as dear Mombo suggested (and hello to you, Mombo! I hope you are well!). He's just a rich jerk who came into this very quiet residential nook and doesn't care if he disturbs the residents who were here before him and will be here after him. Everyone's understanding is that he's here to build his mini McMansion and then sell it for a profit. There is some worry that he intends to turn it into more than one unit, which is NOT what the permit was for. I'll just be happy if he does sell it; he's not my idea of a dream neighbor.

I can't fathom the arrogance of someone who thinks they have the right to disturb other people for their own profit without apology. Not every real estate developer is like this. There was a major construction project on the lot directly behind our house, and the owner came to our home in person, carrying a nice bottle of wine and a business card. He nicely apologized for any disruptions and asked us to call him if we had any particular problems. We did indeed call once, when his roofers were dropping stuff into our backyard and we were concerned for our toddler's safety, and we all got along well enough through that major construction project.

I haven't had any more run-ins with the contractor in person. I am not going to take the approach suggested by several readers, who are nicer people than I am, that I kill everyone with kindness and run over with baked goods. I refuse to cook for a wealthy butthole who most likely tried to sabotage my car. IF he were to apologize, then we might see some cookies or muffins in his future... but there are no signs of that. What I'm going to do is to try to disengage to the best of my abilities and just not interact in any way with this little sociopath.

Today I was out in the street by my house, calling up critical suggestions to the Sober Husband on how best to display a festive Hello Kitty "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banner, when I noticed a very large shard of glass strategically placed by a front tire of my car. It was an unusual piece of glass: unusually thick and unusually sharp. It was clearly not from anything broken in the street, because it was alone. It wasn't from a bottle (which would be the most typical thing for someone to break on a city street); the glass was too thick. If I had not been standing in the street today, I would have driven over the shard in the morning and most likely punctured my tire. I cannot assume this was the contractor again; I am going to keep an open mind. On the other hand, there's no one else I know of who currently has a hate-on for me.

I showed the huge shard to the Sober Husband, who gave me a very weary look in return. He thinks I'm paranoid and doesn't want to hear any more of it.

Just after I went back inside with my shard, poor birthday Lola threw up. Oh my poor darling, it was just a few hours before her guests were expected to arrive for her "Flower Kitten" themed party. The Sober Husband asked me to clean up the vomit, but I declined on the basis that I needed to immediately call all the parents to tell them not to come. Now, at the time we should be welcoming our little guests and having them eat homemade cake, bash our kitten-shaped pinata (how barbaric!), and play with our little herd of foster kittens, we are quietly resting. Poor old Lola, what horrific timing for a stomach virus.