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The White Trash Wars Chapter 1 So, I don’t live a…

The White Trash Wars Chapter 1

So, I don’t live as I was raised. And my Irish temper shows through too much and perhaps my Southern upbringing allows a little too much redneck to rear its head. The debts I created for myself in college and in my attempt at running my first business keep me trapped in a lower middle class state. My driveway looks like a scene from “Sanford and Son” and I live on unkempt parcel of land that is nearly an acre. The house is being remodelled as quickly as my income and time will allow (which isn’t that fast–ain’t I should say). The gutters have been removed on the back, one downspout just barely hangs on the side of the house, a hole is covered with torn plastic where an airconditioner unit used to be. The siding is faded and the shutters are painted green clashing with the grayish color of the vinyl siding.

So, I have renters next door. All the neighbors would like to see that house sold to a family and renters be gone. When they moved in one of their friends came speeding through the cove and I confronted him and the “neighbor” got down right unneighborly with me. I’ve just spoken to his mother about honking the horn when she pulls up to pick him up for work. I didn’t address her speeding yet; however, I expect there to be repercussions. I sort of fear underhanded attacks like the time they just spread garbage on our driveway (apparently the raccoons–yes, we have possum too–had torn up our garbage and got it on their yard. I was in LA so I couldn’t confront them). I suspect he’ll be wanting to chat with me. That’ll be chapter 2.

Enjoy my wife’s perspective on it.

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