Dear Crabby, My Neighbor’s Yard Looks Nicer Than Mine, Should I Care?

Dear Crabby,

We just got some new neighbors whose yard is always kept nice and neat, and my yard is not so nice. It was never an issue until these new people moved in. Now my wife wants me to do something about our yard. What should I do?

Sincerely, Happy As Is Guy

Dear Happy As Is,

Yes, I know the breed of people your new neighbors are, very well. Let me guess: they wear sweater vests, leather loafers, and drive some sort of European vehicle! Yep, I know their type. Probably no kids, no pets, and no such thing as an unplanned moment in their day.

Dear Crabby sits infront of his laptop

Dear Crabby Gives Advice

Well, I’ve concluded that God himself allowed these people to be here to test us regular folks! I had some right next door when we first moved into Rochester 30 years ago. Notice I said “had some.” (Insert evil laugh here) When we first moved in, it was the Mrs. saying to me, “Oh honey look, the neighbors have grass in the yard.” Next it was, “Oh darling, the neighbor rakes his leaves in the fall.” And finally it was, “Oh honey look, they are decorating for every single holiday – corn stalks and pumpkins in October, Christmas lights in December, even a heart on the front door in February! Why don’t we do any of that?”

So, with that, I knew I needed to take action. That next summer, while them California imported yuppies were weeding their perfect gardens and smelling their fancy flowers, I went to a hunting store and asked the manager what the best way was to lure in the wildlife for hunting. Then I bought all this smelly garbage and some sort of salt block and started spreading my loot all over my yard. I even put this salt thing in the ground near the neighbor’s lot line. Man, oh man, within two days we had deer tracks everywhere and raccoon prints up and down the neighbor’s precious little garden!

Woo-hee, I still chuckle when I remember the scene of them two yuppies ranting and wailing about their petunias all being eaten up overnight! I don’t think they ever figured out what I had done, especially because I would go over and make suggestions about how they should spray that smelly deer away stuff all over their precious gardens and maybe try staying up all night to scare away the vicious flower eaters! They thought I was really helping them out.

Oh, and then there were the Christmas lights. Man, I have to go use the restroom every time I start thinking of all them memories. I would wait until they had the whole house decked out like a Vegas Casino on a Christmas high. Then I would sneak over in the middle of the night and insert one of them flasher bulbs in the line that would make the whole house flicker and strobe like a disco ball. Oh man, it was hilarious! Then I would go over a night or two later and change it back to normal. They would be out there all day Saturday checking bulbs and arguing about what went wrong. Then that night I would go back and put a broken bulb in so they would have no lights for a few days! Those thirty days between Thanksgiving and Christmas became my favorite season.

Anyway, they moved out a few years later. They said something about getting a condo in the city where there weren’t so many problems like we have in the suburbs! Ohhh, I am still chuckling over my antics from those days. I don’t think I ever told anyone those stories before. Oh well, I’m an old man now, so what is anyone gonna do. However, Mrs. Crabby just handed me a note that says to tell you that you should “Do unto others as you would have done unto you,” and “you and I will have a little talk later about your antics!” Oh, that last part was for me I guess. Anyway son, not sure if I helped you or not, but good luck with your yard, and watch out for them “wild critters” out there. Hee hee!

Sincerely, Dear Crabby

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About Dear Crabby

Stuck in a rut? Need some biased advice from a crabby old baby-boomer? Read regularly by thousands and loved by some, Dear Crabby answers questions weekly to life's challenges. Send him a note at editor@rochestermedia.com.