This was going to be a funny post.  (If I hadn't waited 'til today to write it.)
I took some pictures of Fran and Bridget's extreme Halloween decorating job.  Mostly to show my friends and perhaps to write a little something like "Friends don't let friends decorate..."  The jackpot of holiday accoutrements that the new people across the street pushed to the curb (and, thereby, into the back of my Jeep) combined with what we already had pushed us to a new level of Halloween overkill.

I was going to talk about how the creepy figure (above) on the porch was almost a bit too much for me (especially when the battery operated hand is activated) but maybe he would be helpful in keeping various creepers from the apartments away from our house.  There has been a variety of interesting characters - the most intimidating being a fellow who has been going door to door asking for money and rides.  (I have heard that within the apartment complex he would also "trick or treat" for drugs in the middle of the night.) 

There were three ambulances and about seven sheriff's cars at the apartments the other night. This is not an uncommon occurence - we had a similar scenario last week, only with firetrucks added.  I have enough suburban civility to see emergency vehicles at a neighbor's house as none of my business unless my concern is directly solicited.  But...when there are multiple vehicles blocking our driveway, seizure inducing strobe lights and general chaos, it becomes my business. And if I wait a while the news will get back to me.

As much as I was hoping for an end to the craziness of the door to door solicitations, the news that the doorbell guy had died of an overdose was not what I had been hoping for.  Lord have mercy.  Every junkie's like a setting sun. 

Have I gone all NIMBY?  And who the hell do I think we are? But there is the record of the chaos that has ensued since the apartments turned into Section 8 housing. A dubious address turned plain nasty. Crazy Jackie.  Crackhead Robert.  Is this a Springsteen song, a Shouts and Murmurs column or just another day in the underside of suburbia?