The Neighbors Have A Castle.
Our little house is in a row of six identical houses built in the 1920s. Except our neighbor’s house.
The neighbor’s house has been expanded to take up three times the original footprint of our house, although they retain the old chimney and awning, presumably as a prank. In no other sense is it recognizable — for example, it is three stories instead of one-and-a-half. It extends back almost all the way to the alley. It has three different balconies.
The whole thing is surrounded by a 6 foot cedar fence, Seattle’s decor of choice for tacky hellholes. But we can still peer in from our raccoon-infested side yard and know the truth.
Here’s some more notes:
This summer, they had a no doubt incredibly expensive landscaping crew redo the whole lawn, complete with zen garden and water feature. However, they do not rake, so the beautiful zen garden has been covered in leaves for four months.
They have a Prius. And THREE TOYOTA HIGHLANDERS.
They have yet to say hello to me.
