Move Your Car, Now! (Please?)

Scenario A- We live on an incredibly skinny street. It's illegal, in our town, to park on the street unless you notify the police department in advance of any social gathering you're throwing. Then, it's kosher. With that said, I like my neighbors. The neighbors across from us have a long driveway. Their walkway to the front door is located at the front of their house so they park at the end of their driveway to save the effort it would take to walk the extra nine steps to the front door had they parked near their garage. I hope you're getting the picture in your head. Now, because they park at the end of their driveway, when they have company, there is no where in their driveway to park, hence, they park directly behind their driveway, which, coincidentally, is right behind our driveway. In conclusion, because they have company on a daily basis, I rarely can get out of my driveway without backing my car up slowly and carefully, as if I'm playing a real-life game of operation and I have to have a steady hand to maneuver the funny bone (my car) out of its claustrophobic home slot (my driveway). With all of that said, again, I like my neighbors.

Scenario B- I worked until 2:30am last night, and Digby, my five-month-old, was up 3 times looking to eat with the bonus prize of completely waking at 6am. I rolled with the punches and decided I would attempt to start my day. My two year old woke up in an incredibly awful mood because he's had cold for about a month that just refuses to quit. Kylan threw a tantrum about wanting a lollipop for a good 1/2 hour directly upon waking. I stayed calm. I ignored him, made him pancakes and all was forgotten. Next, we went shopping and Ky single-handedly destroyed the department store and threw a tantrum for refusing to take his shoes off at the mall play area. I removed him from the play area, with Digby getting fussier every second. Then I realize why Digby was fussy when I smell the all too familiar aroma of his poo. Brad changes Digby, Kylan continues to scream because he wants to go back to the play area, and then Brad hands me the dirty diaper- because apparently this is my job- to dispose of the dirty diaper. We buy what ever it is we bought, oh yeah, curtains, and they were on sale, but in the midst of the mayhem, I buy the wrong size panels. The panels are nonreturnable because they were on sale. We get home and Brad wants to leave to buy a hook to hang up the flower basket that fell down yesterday that was apparently my fault because I installed the first flower basket hook. I want to put the curtains up. I ask him to stay and help with Digby (Ky fell asleep). Brad's idea of help is to let Digby scream his head off while he eats a bowl of Wheaties while watching the Steelers on TV extra, EXTRA, loud in hopes to drown out the scream of our son. Brad then realizes the curtains are the wrong size and asks me why I didn't make sure the length was correct. Then, Kylan wakes up from Digby screaming and the extra loud volume of the t.v. and throws ANOTHER tantrum about wanting an Elmo sticker. I tell Brad I'm leaving with Digby, on the verge of breakdown.

As I go to leave, I finally confront the neighbors aforementioned in scenario A- BECAUSE I CAN'T GET OUT OF MY FRIGGIN' DRIVEWAY.

I do, however, still like my neighbors, but fear they no longer like me.

But at least I'll be able to back out of my driveway. Anyone need curtains?