We looked at the formerly ritzy east side of town, containing the Southern Hills and Brentwood neighborhoods that I remember being so nice when I lived there as a kid. But time had taken it's toll on these areas and we decided that they weren't for us. After driving through the southwest part of Springfield, we found more than one neighborhood that we thought would be ideal for us. And as a result, we plan on concentrating the search there when the time comes.
But first, we have to sell this place.
We've always tried to keep the house and property up, and in the last four years, we've really put the effort into overdrive, both inside and out. Outside is especially important, since all of the home shows tell you that a potential buyers first glimpse of the house is probably the most important, as it's the decider for someone taking the trouble to stop and look at the inside of the house.
Of course, when potential buyers look at your house as the drive up, they're also taking looky-loo at what's around you. Having people look at the outside of MY house doesn't concern me. However, I despair when I look around our small cul-de-sac.
My next door neighbor, Hillbilly Ron, is a frequent mentionee in this blog, mostly because of the way he keeps up his house, particularly the side of his garage. There are always trash piles of one sort or the other gathered there. However, to his credit, the size and the composition of these trash piles change on a frequent basis. Ron has always excelled in trash collection. But lately, I've noticed that there's a new gun in town, and he lives across the street.
Little Marky-Mark lives directly across from us. He's a diminutive little fellow who wears shorts and a T-shirt year round, even in a blizzard. When he first moved in, he was married to someone I nicknamed Princess Leia, but they got divorced soon afterwards. He's the kind of fellow who always seems happy ... too happy. So happy that you know he tortures small animals in the confines of his home.
Marky has four cars, two jet skis and a partridge in a pear tree stuffed into his garage and littering the front driveway. When he first moved in, he built an observatory, which resembles a toy Mount Palomar in his backyard, but it has since rusted out and fallen into disrepair. Two people, which I later found out are his parents, drop by once a day to clean his house and remove bags of trash. I don't know if they do this out of the goodness of their hearts, or if he pays them. To Marky's credit, he mows his lawn twice per year, whether it needs it or not.
And lately, Little Marky has started to pile trash up by the side of his garage, in plain view of the street. And me.
To give you a bit of perspective, here's the side of my garage:
Not "Home & Gardens" Material, But Presentable
And here's the side of the garage of Hillbilly Ron's house:
Note the New "Vintage Jerry Can" Collection Next to the Truck
Impressive indeed. But, in the last several months, Little Marky has made a major push to the side of his garage, and I believe Hillbilly Ron has a top-notch challenger to his title of "Trashiest House In The Neighborhood". In fact, I believe that Little Marky, may be winning. Observe:
A Washing Machine, A Smelly Mattress, Car Seats, Plywood and Other Assorted Shit
I've mentioned something to Hillbilly Ron several times about his mess, but it's kind of like talking to the Jerry Cans. One benefit is that he stopped talking to me. Yesterday, I saw Little Marky's new neighbor yammering at him about his trash, but I think the same thing is going to happen.
So, while these two battle it out for the title of "El Supremo", I suppose I can take comfort in the title I'm sure has been bestowed on me by more than one family around Jan and I ...
Most Annoying Asshole On The Block.