Yep. Yep yep yep yep yep yep yep yep yep yep. Yeeeeep.
So the movers get here this morning around 10:30 with the rest of our stuff. The stuff that, for the most part, we haven't thought about in over 4 years. The stuff that includes a piano that may be the royal and final undoing of any hope we have of ever co existing peacefully with our neighbors.
The truck pulls up and we find out that we are just one of about 5 deliveries they are making between South Dakota and Florida. So it's a very, very big truck. A big enough truck that it blocks our driveway and the our neighbors driveway and hangs over on both sides. Oh NO!
R and I shoot each other a look that says, "uh oh" and try to tactfully speed up the process as much as we can, which turns out to be not very much at all. The two unloaders are the size of a medium toothpick and I'm thinking how on earth are they going to move a piano?
About 15 minutes into the unloading process, I hear the ominous rumble of the garage door next door opening. (duh duh duuuuuhhhhhhhh). This time, I'm outside with the movers and it's BOTH our next door neighbors. He starts in immediately on the blocked driveway and Dennis (how odd is it that both our moving experiences involved men named Dennis), bless his South Dakota heart stood his ground and calmly told our McNeighbors that he had a right to park there to unload us, they'd do it as quickly as possible, and to feel free to call TMO if there was a problem.
Well, needless to day, our McNeighbors did not enjoy hearing that and the verbal assaults began. I remember Mr. McNeighbor calling him a smart ass, and I can't repeat what the wife was saying. R went in to call security forces, because 1) we wanted to cover our own tushies and 2)we were very concerned that this would escalate. And you know, we are lovers, not fighters. heh.
The McNeighbors go inside, then Mr. McNeighbor comes out and moves Ms. McNeighbors car out of the garage and parks it on the street. He does this by driving through their yard. Sigh. At this point, R has talked to security forces who tells him to call the local police department since it's their jurisdiction. The local police department tells R they will come out if there's a disturbance, so I guess our neighbors didn't bother to call the police after all - but let me assure you they sure threatened to, among other things.
As Mr. McNeighbor is walking back to his house from parking Ms. McNeighbor's car, I walk over and say that I'm really sorry they are so upset, but that we'll get the stuff unloaded and the driveway unblocked as soon as possible. I have to say, even though he was obviously angry (and I'd be angry too if I had to listen to MsMcN as much as he probably does) he was nice-ish to me and said that his problem wasn't with me, it was with the guy who blocked his driveway. Which of course restarts the verbal tit for tat until Mr McN goes in and shuts his garage door. Jeez.
Once we get all unloaded, the kids start banging on the piano keys. There is no way - NO WAY - that this is going to end up positively.
Piano, anyone?
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