For the past two years, we have been living next door to a dead lady. She keeps to herself and is deathly quiet. (Get it? Oh, I kill myself. Sorry, I'll stop now).
Our neighbor was very nice when she was alive, but after she died? She became the perfect neighbor. No loud parties, no barking dog, and no cats that pee on my potted plants. After she died, her children apologized the house would stay empty for awhile. And that, I believe, was the most unnecessary apology in the history of Western civilization.
Unfortunately, Nice Dead Lady is finally vacating the premises. First, a For Rent sign appeared on the front lawn. Then, a young couple with two children arrived and Nice Dead Lady's children walked them around the property. Now, the For Rent sign is suspiciously gone.
Yay, new neighbors. Who are alive. And make noise. I'm so excited. (In case you cannot tell, I am being sarcastic. I am convinced that the new neighbors' son is the sort of child who is obsessed with explosions and enjoys torturing small animals. Or, even better: I bet the kids are being home schooled and they'll spend their free time spying on the telecommuter next door.)