So as I sit here, bored out of my skull and waiting out my mandatory three-week recovery sentence, I can't help but feel like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window.
Of course, I can't see a damn thing from my windows, let alone MURDER. The house faces woodlands, which is awesome, obviously, but there is no one to spy on. What is a crippled girl to do?
I can, however, see what food items my neighbors throw to the raccoons each day.
The other day? Honest to God, they threw spaghetti. I wish I had a picture to show you, because I swear, you cannot make up that shit. It was all over the sidewalk because - and I'm just guessing here - the arc at which the watermelon soared through the air was bigger than that of the cooked spaghetti noodles, and they barely even cleared the grass.
(That's calculus, and I've tried everything in my power to forget calculus, so I'm sure that it made absolutely no sense.)
So basically, it's quickly becoming less "feeding raccoons," and more, "let's just throw our garbage off of the balcony. Fun!"
It's getting to the point where I could create an entirely new blog entitled, "Things My Asshole Neighbors Throw Off Their Balcony."