Don’t Talk To Crazy

“Don’t talk to crazy.” ~ Wanda Sykes


Dear reader alert:  this post is a little different than most of my musings.

This one is more along the lines of Joan Rivers’  “Can we talk?”


I never know as I begin to write a blog post where it will end up, so here goes…

In a previous post, I wrote about our home, which we lovingly refer to as The Shire.

We have put a lot of energy

into reclaiming our 30’s vintage cottage and our little acre.

About 3 years ago, or so, a new tenant moved in next door,



is a few hundred yards, or so away from our door.

It all began with pushing property boundary lines.

Spreading out wood piles on our place.

Politely, we asked tenant to remove and explained.


Soon, large accumulations of what I will call cr@p  appeared .

Tents were erected for said cr@p.

Tent City.

Soon, yard sale after yard sale after yard sale.


(I have nothing against yards sales!)

(I have had my own!)

(Yard sales can be fun!)

(Yard sales can be neighborly!)

(I even purchased a gorgeous oval mirror from one today!)

Meanwhile (and this was before the new pot laws) an outdoor plastic lined “building” with grow lights was working overtime to grow you know what.

Strange traffic coming and going, transactions going down, domestic violence, theft–you name it was right there in full view.

The Shadow on Parade.

As growing marijuana became passe’, methamphetamine was being cooked up, and a daily special on the menu.

After two years of this, I had had enough.

We filed a formal complaint with our little city.

It was a legit complaint about the yard sales.

(The rest was tricky, because, as I suspect, some in law enforcement were good customers.)

I complained, and complained.

I called PD for every “domestic” that came down.

My PD’s phone number was listed as a “favorite” on my iPhone’s contact list.


Eventually, tenant was fined for noncompliance with a city ordinance.

Tenant promptly tore up the $500 ticket in front of the police officer.

This cooled tenant’s jets–for awhile.

It’s yard sale/crazytown time again!!

Prepared from last year’s terrorism,

we formed our strategy:  Warn tenant.

Document, document, document.


During yesterday’s photo shoot, I met Crazy face to face.

If you saw what I saw, you would have seen open eyes, with nobody there.

I restated the law on Crazy’s deaf ears.

(waste of effort)

After yesterday’s “event”

 each and every time we leave our private drive way, we get the middle finger salute!


In good faith,

I left the situation reviewing what happened,

and what were MY projections, triggers, etc…

I had a bullying, abusive, drug crazed sister who took things out on me.

I had no protection.

That was then, this is now.

I will NOT be bullied!

I will NOT be afraid in my home, my sanctuary, my Shire!


That is all.

Bless you dear reader for reading this, and do let’s talk!

Vox Anima, SDM

Image Credit: Tumblr, Pinterest


Author: Susan Davis Martin, M.A., M.F.T. & StillDancing...

Body Soul Confluence Where The Arts and Psyche Meet

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