......whoa! Daylight! Oxygen!

I'll explain that, I guess.....that "house" behind us is gone. Just like that. As I told you, the pisslicking scumsucking lower-than-pederast ratbag who owns it rejected my buyout offer--and tried to knock it down, sending a toxic cloud of asbestos up my ass and out my ears and into my grave and that of my wife. So a few of us neighbors gathered and harangued the mayor to stop it, and that was the last I told you of it.
So he was forced to bring in some actual Asbes-boys or whatever the f*** they call themselves. The good news is, it cost him a pile. Each day the head "Ass" had to call him and sling him more well-deserved karma. As we suspected, the whole place was slathered with asbestos. Remember how I told you that every inch of the interior was covered with ceramic mosaic work? I was half right. They were not ceramic tiles at all, but in fact they were cut-up asbestos shingles. The mortar that held them in place was also laced with the stuff. The whole house was one big grinning Cavern Of Death.

So the Ass-Bums were there almost all week. They carted away three large truckfuls of Hefty-bags full of Fibrous Hell. So, on Sunday, we went over and tried to remove some of the exterior mosaic work, which was in fact regular old ceramic. Facing our house for the last fifty years or so, above the window, was a six-foot frieze-type t'ing depicting two birdies. I was up on a ladder all afternoon, only to find that the thing was not on a backing board, but rather set right into that dang ol' cee-ment--three inches thick. So we sadly had to give it up.

So this morning, without warning, the original demolition crew comes back and starts knocking the f***er down. Bang bang bang, gone. And not paying particular attention to our rhododendron and my six-year-old fence-trained grapevines from which I have yet to see Grape #1. Wendy was off today and she went over to ask them to watch out, and they gave her a whole lot of noise. So she had to stand there, hands on hips, and waste the whole day keeping a hairy eyeball on them.

I had a typically hysterical December day at work, left the store with fire sirens and bells clanging away in my head and both hands shaking (don't worry--this is normal) and came home to find that my bride had decided to start a Brick Collection. She had gone over there, in the dark, after these a**holes left, and started taking perfectly preserved Devil House Bricks for some imagined future patio project or something. So I ended up helping in that little endeavor for the next hour and now I can't move. Well, actually they're lovely little bricks, and venerable antiques of course--they don't make 'em like that anymore. I now have a garage full of 'em, and I assume that at some point they're going to come in REALLY HANDY or something. Yes?

So anyway, the Rat-Bastard Land Baron is going to put up some little cardboard s***hole and fill it with the worst human filth he can find, to add some new spice to my existence. What's more, due to the current setback ordinances, whatever structure goes up will be even more in my face than the old one was.

Anyway, see you tomorrow--or if you're not reading this till Friday, then see you tonight. You are in fact there this week, right? Well, f*** it, we're going, and if you're there we'll see you and if you're not we won't unless they have a hologram of you or something.