Neighbors From Hell

No matter what I say, no matter what I do... Neighbors from hell just keep popping up on my doorstep like a bad penny and a revolving door problem. Vin Diesel has turned out to be just as bad if not worse than Spinderella ever dreamed of being. Just with better music and no reasonable excuse.

His music however is turning out to be the least of my worries when what worries me most is that there's something about him that's not quite right. And that in itself causes me more worry than I'm willing to live with. Worried enough to call my landlord and tell him, to tell VD downstairs that there are certain things I will not tolerate. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

And I refuse. Absolutely one hundred and one percent refuse to feel like my safety or that of my child's has been compromised by a man who evidently doesn't have a full grasp on the meaning of boundaries. Because there are boundaries. And there are rules. And I'll be damn if I'm going to let him cross any of them again. Even if that means going downstairs tomorrow morning to lay them out crystal clear face to face.

It's like my Mother once said, "A Momma bear will do whatever it takes to protect her cub."