"I Just Kicked Cat Poo On Her Car!"

For the last three months, I have been feuding with our downstairs neighbors. I am not entirely sure if they are aware of this feud, so it may very well be non-consensual. In any case, this couple (not sure if they are married or not) moved into the building just before Mark and I got married and have been the bane of my existence ever since. The reasons I curse their very names (or at least I would if I knew their names) have been accumulating steadily over time.

It started with them never having their two boxers on a leash, and on more than one occasion they (the dogs, not the people) bounded over to me as I was innocently getting out of my car and harassed me all the way to the stairs. They then had a baby and the boxers disappeared causing me to feel a little guilty that I had ever wished them ill, but that remorse was fleeting.

An ongoing issue is the fact that neither of them even bother to park their cars in the lines of the parking spaces. Now, whoever designed our parking lot was obviously a dimwit that thought they didn't make automobiles larger than a Smartcar and subsequently painted some of the most impossibly small spaces I have ever seen. Still, the rest of the tenants in the lot manage to fit their cars within the lines, but noooooo. Not my downstairs adversaries. I can always count on their two cars taking up three spaces as I drive in and have to park three rows away from my apartment, all the while silently hoping that the ground beneath their self-appointed three parking spaces opens up and swallows their cars into the bowels of hell.

On top of all this, there have been several occasions in the last month of piles of animal crap being left right on the walkway in front of the apartment, which I suspect were a gift from my favorite boxers owned by my favorite couple. After making this unpleasant discovery not once but twice, I finally went to the landlord like a tattle-taling five-year-old and made him aware of the crappy situation (I am very punny). We promptly found notes on all of the doors that afternoon firmly forbidding non-leashed dogs and their inappropriate defecation.

This all culminated to my breaking point. Beevus and Butthead also own a cat, which they recently decided would be more of an outdoor cat than an indoor cat. We see this poor, obviously malnourished cat hanging around the complex, and it recently took a liking to laying right outside our door. Maybe it just needed the assurance that there was a better life out there and wanted simply to gaze longingly at what a loved cat's life looked like, I don't know. But one night last week, I started walking down to my car only to find a pile of cat poop sitting right at the top of the stairs.

As you can imagine, I was outraged. I marched back into the apartment to where Mark was studying Latin and said through gritted teeth, "Just. Come. Look."

I grabbed his arm and steered him to where the pile lay.

"Do you see that?" I ranted. "I can't even believe this! This has just gotten ridiculous! These white trash people have no sense at all and I hate them!"

With that, I brushed the poo off our second story balcony and watched as it landed with a thud...right on the hood of the bitch downstairs' two-space-occupying car.

Mark and I exchanged one open-mouthed, horrified glance before tiptoeing as fast as we could back into our place and carefully shutting the door quietly behind us.

"I can't believe you just did that," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh my God!" I whispered (like they could hear me from downstairs). "I just kicked cat poo on her car! It's not like I did it on purpose! Okay, maybe it wasn't quite an accident per se, but still."

For the next few minutes I was plastered to the window, waiting to see if the neighbors downstairs would realize what had happened. Sure enough, after several minutes the guy came out to examine the gift I had inadvertently left on his woman's car. I watched as he disappeared for a moment then reappeared with a plastic bag to put the poo in.

"Well, I can't go to the gym now," I informed Mark (I will use any excuse to not go to the gym. It was convenient.). "They have me pegged."

The next morning, as I was getting ready I asked Mark, "You don't think they would have keyed our cars, do you??"

This was clearly completely dramatic, and a normal person would have dismissed it as being ridiculous.

"No," was Mark's response. "I checked already."

All things considered, I definitely categorized it as a win for the good guys. We won the battle, and I fully intend on winning the war. So stay tuned.