Mr. Wonderful lives next door to what we believe is a full-fledged hippie commune. The house is a rental, and we’re not exactly sure how many “musicians” live in it, but there are people coming and going over there all day and all night. I know, I know, it’s Hollywood—what do we expect.
I can deal with their crazy, continual drum beating and jam sessions. I even got over the fact that two of them got into a screaming lovers’ quarrel in the middle of the cul de sac one Sunday morning at 6:00 a.m., shrieking and cursing like they were killing each other. Yes someone yelled, “Are you okay,” out a window—which they were. And yes, the cops showed up shortly thereafter.
What gets me most about the hippies is their car situation.
They have a two-car garage. But they choose to park between 4-8 cars (including a super hooptie hippie van) in the street spaces along the cul de sac. Which means there is rarely ever parking for visitors of other inhabitants in the neighborhood. Mr. W and Dirty Painter often have to park their cars on the street just to save spots for me and Southern Belle.
This irks me to no end. It makes me think about doing things like putting dead fish in the undercarriages of their cars. Or accidentally draining their tires of air. It also forces me to summon every bit of zen-ness and positivity I can as I drive toward the street.
And that of course causes me to pause and think, “Why am I hating so much when they’re just a bunch of peaceable hippies?” Sometimes I even consider, “If you can’t beat them, join them.”
Dirty Painter overheard the Head Hippie talking to guests in his yard yesterday. As one friend introduced a new female hippie to Head Hippie, HH said to her, “Tell me about yourself.” (Which immediately made me think he was interviewing her to become their 16th roommate). Her reply was, “Well...I love to love.” (Which made me think she was also interviewing for a starring role in their crazy hippie orgies).
If they’re just out to love—is it even possible for me to hate them? Can my seeds of disdain even survive if they’re fertilizing the ground around me with goodwill and musical kindness? I think their many-man love juju might be too overpowering for my bitter yuppie parking space entitlement. After all, I do drive a Prius…