Welcome Wagon

The fact that I am on the board of the neighborhood homeowners association isn't even the funniest part. The fact that I am on the welcoming committee is the really funny part. Especially given my positive attitude about moving here. Well, three years have passed. We've unpacked (mostly), made friends and adjusted (mostly). My job is to drive around the neighborhood and stalk new homeowners. If I am lucky enough to catch them at home, I give them a packet of information about the neighborhood - who to call to bitch, moan, complain and tattle on their fellow neighbors. Tired of driving by during the day to find no one home ever, I set out tonight determined to hunt these people down. Tonight, my life was a cross between a Stephen King Novel and an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I got violated by a horny Australian Shepherd while his amused owner watched. I swear the furry little molester laid down and smoked a cigarette after I did my walk of shame back to my car. I met a psycho ex-military guy with an even crazier dog who wanted to eat me for a snack. Then I met a retired guy with a whole host of health issues that he freely shared with me. Next on my welcome tour was a lady I either want to be friends with or will be visiting in rehab. I'm not entirely convinced she was kidding about bringing a keg to the board meetings. I'm still on the fence about whether that will improve the meetings. Driving by my own house, I spotted a gaggle, herd, posse of crows circling my garbage. It was straight out of Hitchcock's "The Birds". In my determined quest to be the welcome wagon lady, I called Paul to alert him to "his" garbage problem and kept driving. What can I say? I'm a good neighbor but a lousy wife.