Sunday, the Day of Insanity.

Yes, I know. It should be the day of rest. It wasn't. Oh no, far from it. Woke up to no water, just a trickle flowing from the faucet after flushing the toilet and brushing my gummy teeth. I had to run down to the BP station and buy bottle water for my chickens. (That's poultry for you, demanding that Evian.) Then, I ran into Rice Lake for a load of pallets that will firm up the walls of the new shed going in, that will eventually house my rabbits. Back home to beg buckets of water from my nice neighbors (the distinction between nice and grumpy will be important soon), and then launching off to do some computer face time to get some homework done.
In the middle of a discussion about wave interference and diffraction of sound waves, my phone rang. A check of caller ID revealed it was the woman known as "Grumpy Old Woman" neighbor. She and her late husband earned the title of Grumpy Old Neighbors shortly after I moved in five years ago. The second morning I was here, I was out with my little dog Hannah supervising a morning wee and out came Grumpy Old Man neighbor. He looked my way, and grunted. I called out "oh, good morning!" He replied with "get that lawn mowed". Ummmm....friendly. Things progressed from there, with any interaction involving a remonstrance to (1) fix something about my yard (2) fix something about my house (3) get my dog to shut up or (4) and my favorite, a talk I call "We Have A Problem".
Ahh, yes, We Have A Problem. The best way to start a nonconfrontational conversation with your neighbor about something that is worrying/bothering/pissing you off. I highly recommend it. It makes the receiving party very open and receptive.
Today's phone call began with me saying "hello" cheerfully, and was followed with a response of "Cris, We Have A Problem". Oh boy. My favorite! Just what I wanted on an already five-star kind of day....well, what followed was an accusation of causing rats to nest in her seldom-used spare detached garage. Apparently, when her son came over yesterday to mow the lawn and whack their small shrubs into submission, he discovered "rats" in the garage. This is the garage where doors stand ajar routinely, the loft door has been open for the past three years (all year long), and where it is accessed for the mower once or twice per week in summer or the man toys of snowmachine and 4-wheeler a couple times per season.
In any case, my neighbor is convinced that because I use straw on my property for animal bedding and for mulch in the garden that the rats have come and nested in her garage. The interesting thing is, I have never (1) seen a rat (2) signs of a rat or (3) been aware that straw is the ultimate rat attractant. So attractive is it, that the rat will make its home in a place where there is (1) no straw (2) no food source from said straw or (3) no food source from any other means, such as garden, garbage, or bin of pet food. Apparently, my sheds with animal food, food dishes, and warm bedding are completely unattractive to rats, and they decided that my neighbor's garage would be the best place to rest after being no where on my property. Wow. Never knew rats were that distinctive. It couldn't possibly be related to the fact that a seldom used garage full of boxes filled with interesting things has stood open for years, attracting birds, bats, and goodness knows what else to curl up in there. Oh no. It is me and my straw. Oh, and my garden--rats like my garden so much that I have never seen them in it, seen signs of them in it, or even so much as pooped near it.
After threatening me with "taking action" and berating me for "if you wanted a farm, you should have moved to a farm, dammit" and that I had better "fix this situation now, or action would be taken" (never was specified what that action would be, I have to admit that I am curious...), she hung up on me after I said that well, I wasn't going to get rid of straw and my whole garden because I didn't believe it was attracting rats, given that I'd used straw for the past four years and had never seen a rat or signs of a rat, but that I would move my compost operation (which is mostly straw or wood shavings and chicken shit, no food because it attracts rats) on the very slim chance that it had brought in the varmints.
After swearing a little and thinking some seriously nasty thoughts about Grumpy Old Woman neighbor, I finished the bit of computer work I was hacking away at, fed the dogs, and went out to move the compost. It took me 1 1/2 hours in the heat to haul that sucker waaaaaaaay over to where the hen house and yard is. Very inconvenient for use in the garden, but far away from the garage in question. I suppose if it was attracting rats, I will now see them better since they will be able to the rat cha-cha right on the porch. Disco ball, anyone?
You would think that I might go back inside for a drink and a grumble, but I did one better: I went over to see Grumpy Old Woman neighbor. At first, she wouldn't talk to me. Her response to my "hello" was "what?" Not as in"what did you say", but as in "what (the hell to do you want)" what. I came, bearing a half dozen eggs (which she sneered at, the B****H) and my checkbook. I insisted on paying her for the poison, refused to let her refuse to take it, and offered to call a pest control expert to assess the situation and remove the rats, if any survived the poison. I don't think she was expecting that, I think she was expecting an ongoing feud. Kinda sad, really. I've never been anything but nice and accommodating.
Well, okay. There was the time that her husband came over, complaining that my dogs were pooping on his porch. My dogs, who are always fenced in. I pointed out, politely, that my dogs did not run free and maybe a different dog did it. Nope. It was mine. I was told again that "We Have A Problem" and to "take care of it or action would be taken". Oh, and the cat went into their garage...which must have been aportation, because the cats were all indoor at the time and had been for weeks and weeks. I pointed this fact out, got sneered at, was told to "take care of it", and--I admit, got a little pissed--then I replied "well, you know, the best way to keep animals out of your garage? Close the garage door." He grumped at me, muttered something about action being taken, and took himself off. These are two of the now six total interactions that I have had with this particular set of neighbors in five years.
Anyway, back to today's fun and excitement. Turns out, this is a manifestation of Grumpy Old Woman neighbor's phobia about animals. When I was first introduced to her, a year after I moved in, her reply to my "hello" was: "If you ever need the ambulance, I won't be coming. Not even if you were dying." My initial thought was what the f**k did she just say to me??, followed by allrighty then, thanks neighbor. (She refuses to drive the local ambulance, which she always drives on calls, to houses that have dogs. Or cats. Or really, any animals. Its a hard thing in a rural, farmy area.) She is deathly afraid of having rats in the garage, maintains that they never had issues like this until I moved in, and cried. Well, I felt bad about the crying...her husband died around Christmas, and I get it, she's lonely and scared of rats.
I maintain, though, that she doesn't have the right to accuse me without any substantial evidence that I caused this to happen, or to be quite so mean to me. All the time. Mean, always. Not so much fun, really. Anyhoo...she finally accepted my check, took the sneered-at eggs, and agreed that she would accept my apology (which I worded as "I am so sorry that you are so upset. Rats are very horrible") and would call me in a couple of days after some nephew or other goes in to see if there are any survivors of the chemical warfare. I may yet be calling in the Pied Piper.
The upside is, she can't complain about me without looking like an ass (because I was very nice, and very polite, and promised to help with the situation, and paid for the damn poison) and.....here it is, get ready....the doors to the garage, all of them, are finally shut after 3 to 4 years of being open. Maybe no more rats will move in. Or raccoons, or pigeons, or anything else I can get blamed for attracting to her open, accessible, and very attractive lonely & seldom used garage.
Dear lord, how I love this neighbor of mine. I am waiting for the visit from the village mayor-slash-postal delivery guy-slash-village lawman, because I just know that after she hung up on me, she took her Grumpy Old Woman self over to his house and kvetched. I am kind hoping he comes swagger-waddling up in all his portly, short guy, old gray man glory, swathed in beige with big, prominent stars on chest and ballcap, puts his hand on his trusty sidearm, and drawls:
"Cris, We Have A Problem."