I looked out the window at my neighbor’s roof. Moss is growing from the shingles. Trees are actually sprouting up, and the roof is covered with acorns. One would think he was an old man: probably feeble and eeking out a living on Social Security checks. But no; his affluence is evident from his shiny new car and top-of-the-line golf clubs. He just flat out doesn’t care.
Each morning, he emerges from under his manually raised garage door in his 20-year-old polyester suit. He moves quickly to the car, avoiding any chance of eye contact with the neighbors. Once or twice I have yelled, “Hi” to him just so he would know that I know he’s trying to ignore us. Since we live in connected townhouses, his roof affects my property value. And I want him to know he’s not sneaking by me.
I filed a report with the town to complain about his eyesore of a roof. We do live in Velveeta-land, USA, and are entitled to a certain standard of living. The Town Building Inspector agrees with me. But Since Moss Man is a lawyer, deems every loophole his own, it’s been difficult to confront him.
Miraculously, we were able to sell our Townhouse for a good price. I camouflaged as best I could, raising a patio umbrella onto the wooden fence which divided our property from Moss Man’s. The buyer did notice the roof, and used it to negotiate a few thousand off the price. It was a fair deal after all. And we moved on to our dream house on the other side of town.
Now it’s been left in the hands of Karma.
Eventually, his roof will cave in.
SueAnn Porter 