here's the story

I didn't feel like writing up the details about this over the holiday proper, nor the day I'd set aside to get my head screwed on straight(er).
But here's the poop about the NeighborGuy. Pour yourself a cup o'something yummy, because I'm about to get seriously long-winded.


The background story is such:

I live on a corner lot.
My house is on a hill.
I am a wheelchair user.
I live in a neighborhood with no curb cuts (this means that my personal driveway is my curb cut--it is the ramp that allows me to get my wheelchair from my car and up to my front door).
Oh.
And let's also add that my driveway borders the NeighborGuy's property.


Now, I don't use the curb cut of my driveway all that often. I typically leave my wheelchair in my car, use crutches to get into the house, and then waiting for me when I open the front door is another wheelchair. This is because the threshold between the landing and the doorway isn't wheelchair friendly...but nevermind that for now. Let's also nevermind for now the fact that I don't use my driveway for parking my car. There is a dead 1970 VW bus full of my camping gear parked there. So I never enter or exit my driveway with a vehicle. Only a wheelchair, and only when I am unloading my car. If I have to carry something in that is too big to be managed on crutches (ie: just about anything), then I use the wheelchair to help me get said item up to the front door's landing.

What makes accomplishing the task of unloading my car difficult at times, is when the NeighborGuy has parked blocking my driveway. This usually means he is out of room to park because he has also parked blocking his driveway, and possibly even the driveway of the neighbor on the other side of him, as well.

So. If you can picture this, this would mean that I load a heavy and/or large item onto my lap, I am not able to use both hands for pushing or breaking because they are holding the item onto my crooked lap (I only have half a lap), I roll downhill three or four houses until I can find a useable driveway, push myself back uphill (which is very hard to do with one hand and a lapfull of heavy shit, because you have to lean forward deeply make a wheelchair go uphill), before I can even get get to my own front yard.

NieghorGuy has intermittently blocked my driveway since, well....forever. And in the last two years, I have had several peaceable discussions with him about it. I have also occasionally left notes that say please and thank you on the vehicles (because it's not always his car, it might be one of the 14+ people living there, or their visitiors, right?). I have nicely explained the fact that it is illegal to park blocking a driveway in this state, and that well...it is my driveway. I have also explained that it really is an accessibility issue for me. Not that gimps deserve pity, but you think that one alone would be enough, wouldntcha???


Wellp. Obviously not.
And at about 10am Thanksgiving morning, when I needed to bring stuff in from my car and was not able to, I knocked on his door and asked politely if he could please move his car as I needed to be able to use my wheelchair to get some items inside my house.

Know what he said? That it was his uncle's car, so therefore it was not his problem (even though his uncle lives there??), that I've been a bitch ever since the white-thingy went up, that it was too early in the morning for this shit, that the canopy was never ever ever coming down...and then he slammed the door in my face. So I mumbled (yes, only a mumble) that I'd just call the sherrif and have it towed.

By the time the Sherriff showed up, about 6 of the people that live or visit the property had gotten into their cars and left rather abruptly (hmmmm *scratches head*...something to hide??).

Once the Sherrif arrived, I explained to her the situation. In fact, I even wheeled about unloading my car to show her the situation. Gathering sympathy? No. Because sometimes an ambulatory person can't really see the problem for themselves...even when they are kind, and mean well, and trying so hard to visualize a mobility situation. They just have no way of understanding things about surfaces and equipments unless they actually see it displayed for them, or try it for themselves.

I apoligized for bothering her with Hattfield/McCoy crap on Thanksgiving. I explained to the Sherrif that I am very tolerant. That I was not calling to complain about the illegal rental unit in the backyard, the illegally wired utilities, the illegal aliens living on the property, the garbage that's been placed on the side of my house that blocks the meter reader, the fact that my garbage can has been used to handle their overflow often hindering me from using my own service, the poor soggy cold doggy and the newly purchased bunny in the backyard that (imho) are treated negligently, the doughnut marks in the interstection (courtesy of my neighbor's "muscle car"--often created in the morning, and we live one block from and elementary school), the fact that NG continues to hop my fence to climb my avocado tree and strip it of fruit even though I've asked him not to, or even newly unobstructed view debate.

No, no. I was calling about none of those things (*chuckle*...I can be such a bitch. do. not. fuck. with. me...and maybe I am a tad bit passive-agressive after all...I'm only moments away from cutting little letters out of magazine print and glue-sticking a note that says, "Canopy or A Call to Immigration--You Decide").

But again, no. I wasn't calling about any of those things.
I was calling about the fact that I couldn't access my own home and had asked nicely and...
well, you get the picture.

So the Sherrif goes over there for awhile and comes back looking very confident, collected, and professional, but looking like she needed a place to sit down and maybe even a cup of tea. Something about her eyes, ya' know?? Well, as it turns out, both the NeighborGuy and his wife yelled and screamed at the Sherrif, were rude and obscene, and even tried to slam the door in her face (smart bunch, eh?). Sherrif Michelle (we are on a first name basis now) advised them that she would be patrolling the neighborhood on every shift from here 'til eternity and that if they even so much as inched over into my driveway, there would be no knock on the door, but instead an immediate tow and a mandatory 30 day impound (you go, girl).

Then she looked at me, scowled and said, "You have no idea how bad I wish that car was still parked there when I got here." (oh yes, I have some idea) She gave me a card with her phone number, what hours she is on duty, and who to call when she is off duty. We wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving and she gave me a handshake...and then leaned in for a hug. Awww :-)

About 30 minutes later or so, I went to my kitchen to do dishes, looked out the window to admire what little of my view is left, and there is NeighborGuy (can I start calling him Asshat or something??) staking me out. He is smack in the middle of his redwood deck sitting on a folding chair staring at my kitchen window donning the hate-mug with his arms folded all pissy-looking.

So I closed the blinds.

And I just could not stand the idea of TheAsshat squeezing out my sunshine, so I pulled them back up a few minutes later after I stopped feeling freaked.

Not much drama since then.

But I'm a bit scared to leave the house and have the place looking vacant.
And I'm checkin' my tires every day for carefully positioned nails.


The End.
Knitting photos later, if I can get my act together.