Having failed in their requests, they switched gears away from the demand for privacy to aesthetics. They noted some small rocks had fallen from the top of a 29-inch-thick, 2-foot-high rock wall that was along the higher end of my back property line, where the hedge ended. The stone wall was the type built by the Romans in Britain and which still stands today!! They demanded it be replaced and even suggested a type of wall that would be more aesthetically pleasing to them. Once I got my flame-throwing tongue and steam-spewing nostrils under control, I consulted two professionals from different companies. Their findings were the same.... the wall was not going anywhere, and added that they suspected rocks had been knocked down by deer. The neighbours were not pleased. Next thing I knew, a new gap appeared in the wall. Another consultation was in order. Human interference with the wall was strongly suspected. The consultant reasserted that stone walls like mine have stood for centuries, and this one would too. A survey to prove the fence was on my property was demanded. I complied. Anything to shut the neighbours up. The survey showed the rock wall was within my property. With supreme effort, I respectfully told the neighbours this fact. I politely suggested that they build a fence parallel to mine but on their own property. I then walked away with the death knell sounding in my head.
Getting revenge has never been my modus operandi, but I devoted a fair amount of time entertaining ideas from the shadowlands. A high-voltage electrified fence, perhaps. A twinge of euphoria surged through me as I imagined them being jolted to sanity. A friend suggested a very tall post upon which was affixed a high-powered camera strategically aimed at their house. A movement activated spotlight aimed at their bedroom was another great suggestion. The fact that I enjoyed these imaginary acts of revenge gave me a sense of guilt, but it was worth it. My daughter proposed that I ask my wall-climbing son to dress in his hunting camouflage gear and propel himself down the side of the neighbour's house and burst through their bedroom window in a shower of sparkling glass shards. His high-powered spotlight would focus on the neighbours in their bed. My role was to be stationed below their window, blowing the 'charge' call on a bugle.
The creme-de-la-creme suggestion was offered by a friend. It was much more realistic, very simple, yet would be so very effective. Her idea was to place two very large inflatable balls, painted like eyeballs, in the tall tree facing the rear of the neighbours' house. Fantasizing about its implementation provided me with many hours of pleasure. At times, gleeful spasms rocked through my body, so much so that I feared for my sanity. What kind of person was I becoming? Why on earth was I giving those people next door so much power over my precious time, energy and consciousness?
