And I called the police about it. Seriously, who would waste perfectly good macaroni and cheese like that?
Actually, because we've been having problems with our neighbor that go well beyond the mere grumpy - multiple tire slashings on my roommate's car, motor oil poured all over our front porch, a shut-off of our water supply - I called the cops to document this latest incident of harassment, after confirming with the neighbor's home healthcare aid that she cooked macaroni and cheese last night for dinner.
As much as I hate to call the police to settle community disputes, if anything should happen to this car or our house, the insurance companies will be on it like a bonnet. And nothing sates insurance companies' quest for justice like a well-researched police report. I know this from getting rear-ended by a mail truck back in 2004. (What is it with me and public employees?)
They of course didn't answer the phone for five minutes, during which time I saw a cop driving THE WRONG WAY down our one-way street, and despite my best efforts to flag him down, he did not stop. (I've been having a problem lately with getting cops to stop their cars for me.)
When I finally talked to the lady, she told me to call dispatch and hung up. I had to go to work, so, dear Shtetl Denizens, expect to be on the update as soon as this worker bee gets to leave for the evening.