Being Neighborly

Wednesday morning is garbage morning at our house. It gets picked up before Chris even gets home from work, so I put it out to the street Tuesday night. Tonight I was going back and forth from the house to the driveway to empty our trash cans and put the bags into the big cart-thingy that goes by the street. This probably took me about five minutes to get all of my food garbage from the freezer (yes, I freeze my garbage so my trash can doesn't smell), empty the diaper trash can, etc. The whole time, my next door neighbor's two schnauzers were standing at the fence yipping like rapid beasts. I. Hate. Those. Dogs. Not schnauzers in general - those two specific dogs. They are the yippiest things I've ever seen. And their owner doesn't pick up their poop. Her backyard is right next to my driveway. We live in the South where the temperature has been upwards of 95 degrees lately. You smell where I'm going with this? So I wheel my cart out to the street and the little beasts proceeded to bark the entire time. I glanced over at their dark backyard and said, "Would you bitches please shut up?" What was the next thing I heard? Not the sweet silence of the dogs shutting their yaps. Not the sound of them turning tail and running into the house. I couldn't even hear a freaking car drive by. I couldn't even get that. Why? Because I heard my neighbor say, from the black-holeness of her patio, "Maggie, come here girl." Yes that's right folks, she was sitting on her back patio when I told her "bitches" to shut up. Oops. But seriously? What the hell is she doing outside at night sitting in the pitch black listening to her damn dogs bark at the neighbor? I don't guess I'll be getting a fruit basket this Christmas.