It’s official. He’s the Jerk of the Park.

It’s 51 degrees (26 C) degrees and cloudy.

Raise your hand if you’d be using your air conditioner.

He’s back at it. After a blip on the radar screen of switching off that noisy monstrosity  of his evaporative cooler in these cooler monsoon days and even cooler nights, James is back to running it constantly. Day and night. And for extended absences.

It’s hard to miss the noise of that mother-ing monstrosity! It’s loud because it needs repairs, which the landlord refused to do.

It’s hard to miss that hunka metal the size of a VW bug for midgets because it faces half my home and most of my windows — including the bedroom’s.

Tight quarters inmobile home parks.You have to consider your neighbors!

Or not.

Then you’re the Jerk of the Park. Meet James.

Places I’ve lived often get a moniker. Something short ‘n’ sweet that summarizes the experience for better or worse. Usually it captures something significant or particularly memorable about a person — a neighbor or a roommate.

After three months of truly inconsiderate behavior  and plenty of chances to be otherwise, he’s proven himself to be a bad neighbor. It’s official. He earned the title. He’s the Jerk of the Park.

Whywhywhy is he running that cooler in the rain?! In these monsoons?! When it’s fucking 51 degrees outside?!?

He’s negligent, forgetful, young, too busy to care, doesn’t care — some of each perhaps. I get all that. We’ve addressed this issue. The constant sound and unnecessary use of his cooler. He promised to rectify the situation. He didn’t. Promised to be a better neighbor. He hasn’t been.

For months I’ve bemused that he’d finally turn that thing off and KEEP IT OFF only when there’s a blizzard.

Lordie I hate being right sometimes!

Though I’m moving most of my things today — off to pick up the U-Haul truck momentarily — I’m actually still here ’til Wednesday. Seven days.

Seven more days of James and his Giant Swamp Cooler. (Were that I could write Giant Peach instead!)

Seven more days of that high pitch (that serves to remind of the landlord’s denial of a problem and refusal to get it repaired) and roar. Night and day. Regardless of temperature and conditions.

Seven more days of the Jerk of the Park.

There are losses with this move and there are gains. I mourn the former and celebrate the latter.

On the whole, in the big picture, my leaving is a positive. A great thing even. A better class of people await.

And a better me too — for I do take lessons and teachings specific to this living situation with me.

A time of quietude will be very healing — and necessary — in the upcoming room rental (official move-in today).

I was about to write: I’ll miss having my own space. Then thought: But do I really?

The constant intrusiveness of  the neighbor’s noise tell me otherwise.




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