The front unit in our set of 3 has been vacant since the gorgeous elderly original owner "moved upstairs" around 4 months ago. Her offspring quickly sold off their inheritance, swearing black and blue they vetted the purchaser - thinking of us at such a time, how kind.
They sold the place to Homeswest.
So #1Brother who owns the middle unit, and me in the back unit, have sat and waited and got a bit angsty over who will end up moving in.
Last week I spotted a nicely dressed young lady walking around the front yard. I got excited. She looked like the perfect neighbour. Sadly, she simply works for the church care group who own the place.
So Homeswest sold it to them? Who knows. Who cares. Things were possibly looking up as we now envisaged a lovely old couple living out their days gardening and baking for all of us, as well as minding The Feral Threesome because old people love kids, and are hopefully deaf enough to miss most of the swearing and shouting and still find them adorable.
Yesterday, finally, a truck pulled up and started unpacking flat pack Ikea-esque furniture type boxes. Then a maintenance dude showed up. It appears to be go time!
So while definitely not snooping, and simply spending a very long time thoroughly checking my mail box, I covertly sussed out the new tenant.
Only there was no sweet old couple. There were half a dozen men and women.
This is a 1 bedroom unit. So they're either Polygamist's or swingers.
Or workers readying the unit for my preferred sweet old, cake baking, child minding, garden tending, almost deaf couple.
And so now I'm sitting and waiting and bemoaning the fact that my long driveway prevents me from covertly spying and trying to sus out who will be within whining / screaming / swearing / bloodcurdling yelling distance of
me The Feral Threesome.
I so hope it is a lovely old couple, assuming they've hit the jackpot with their allocated housing being in a reputable suburb that's known to be frequented by retiree's. The reality is so much.....more.....than that.
Stay tuned as I turn into that nosey neighbour in an effort to help plot my sadistic torture via offspring noise pollution. Unless of course they offer to garden, bake and babysit.