“Wow!” Becky said, after viewing a tutorial Clarissa put together on how to part a small child’s hair. “That’s fantastic. Do you think she’ll watch it?”
“It’s hard to say with that woman,” Clarissa said. “It’s a shame to see her poor child go to school with uneven parts in her hair. I mean, what message are we sending our children? Life is about crooked parts?”
“Have you ever said anything to A. Marie about how she parts her daughter’s hair?”
“Just once. I suggested to her that she watch the other video I did that focuses on styling hair and she was all Why? It’s just hair. Who cares? and I was all, your daughter will care when she’s getting teased at school because she has lightening bolts going down the back of her head. And then she was like, Maybe you should do a video tutorial, teaching parents how to talk to their kids about being kind.”
“Oh my God! So not the point,” Becky said. “I’m going to pray for those poor kids. And her. But mostly her kids because honestly, I think A. Marie is kind of a lost cause.”
“I know. Right?” Clarissa looked over toward the window. Outside, the HOA-hired landscapers were mowing her lawn. She stood up and walked across the room, staring outside of the window, closely monitoring their work.
“What are you looking at?” Becky asked, standing up to join Clarissa.
“The landscapers. They’re outside mowing the lawn. I’m checking to make sure that they actually blow the grass off of my driveway this time. Last week they only mowed half of my lawn and left chunks of grass all over the edge of my driveway. It was a total hack job. I was furious. I sent an email to the HOA secretary, complaining about it. Do you know what that woman said? She said there was a thunderstorm last week and that the landscapers can’t be expected to mow the lawn in the middle of a thunderstorm. So I checked NOAA’s website and while there definitely was a thunderstorm last week, their website clearly showed that there were 5-minute increments throughout the day when there was no rain. Those men could’ve come back and at least blown the grass off of my driveway. So I replied back to her with a screenshot of what NOAA said and how I felt the landscapers were being lazy and sloppy by leaving the grass all over my driveway. Do you know what she said?”
Becky shrugged her shoulders.
“She said,” Clarissa continued, “what’s the big deal? It’s just grass. It’s biodegradable. It’ll blow away eventually.”
“Biodegradable?” Becky shook her head. “That woman has issues. You know what else is biodegradable? Dog poop. If the landscapers can leave grass on our driveways because it’s biodegradable then why does it matter if Judy’s dog is pooping in her neighbor’s yard?”
Clarissa smiled. “Dog poop isn’t really biodegradable, Sweetie, but that was a very good retort. Did you hear what happened with that property-line ordeal?”
“What?” Becky asked.
“So Judy and her neighbor, Bill Huffernickle, have been battling out where their property line was. Both Judy and Bill demanded that the HOA become involved with this matter. A time and date was set for the HOA president to come out and make the final determination for them.”
“The HOA president was a no-show. He had some excuse about a prostate exam. He sent the HOA secretary instead. She showed up with orange spray paint and drew a line between Judy’s yard and Bill’s. According to the line she drew, Patrice Remington was actually in Bill’s yard when she was pooping.”
“She spray-painted the grass?”
“Yes! Judy was infuriated. She contacted a lawyer about the whole thing.”
The door to Clarissa’s house flew open. Judy stood inside the doorway, holding Patrice Remington in her arms. Both Judy and Patrice were drenched.
“Judy!” Clarissa cried out.
Becky grabbed a small blanked off the sofa and ran over to Judy. She placed the blanket around Judy’s shoulders. “Did you get caught in a downpour?”
“No,” Judy said through clenched teeth. “I hired a lawyer who said there was a discrepancy with how the property lines were determined and that until it was officially settled in court, I should go about my business. I let Patrice Remington outside for a bathroom break and when she tried to go to her preferred spot, sprinklers went off. Naturally Patrice Remington panicked. She pulled so hard, she yanked the leash out of my hands and I had no choice but to chase her around that man’s yard. Every time we went anywhere near the property line, his sprinklers turned on.”
“O-M-G!” Clarissa covered her mouth, horrified at this information.
“What is this world coming to when a poor little dog is assaulted by a sprinkler system?” Judy shook her said, staring down at the floor.
Thanks for shopping Snark, Sass, & Sarcasm! I’ll see you next time.
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