unravled

Just got home from a lovely, thankfully uneventful weekend in San Diego to find my dog rolling around in cat shit out in the driveway. This means she somehow got out of the house or yard (thanks to our oblivious roommate most likely) and could have been anywhere if she hadn't had that wonderful cat shit to distract her. This is the third time something like this has happened.

Then there's having to deal with the regular obstacle of drug deals taking place in the middle of the street just to get home. Oh, and the crazy fucking guy who used to live in the back house until he destroyed it, but keeps showing up and lurking around. He even went so far as to call the police and report that there was a homeless lady with kids living back there, when there clearly wasn't. Yeah, four police cars showing up in your driveway is fun.

Of course, there's also the almost daily occurrence of the police helicopter circling low overhead looking for yet another gang member or drug dealer. Oh, and the shopping carts and trash that get left on my lawn at least once a week. If I wanted my dog to eat your left over In-n-Out, I'd throw it over the fence myself, thanks.

I was willing to overlook the neighbor who was passed out drunk when she got raped by a cabdriver in the driveway two years ago as a freak, one time thing, but now I'm done. We need to move.