Cul de Sac Crazy - Being 60 (week 37 - by Margaret Ullrich)

Sorry I missed a week.

It's been a bit crazy here.

Trust me.

No, I wasn't just playing with makeup for 2 weeks.

I'm just as hooked on the comings and goings of celebrities as the next person.  I watch ET.  I read a couple of chapters of Candace Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue before I go to sleep. 

But the celebs and Manhattanites have nothing on what's been going on in a once quiet little cul de sac right here in Winnipeg.

Think Kelsey Grammer's divorce is a mess?  

Think Sandra Bullock was blindsided?

Nah-ugh. 

Last Halloween our neighbor, let's call him A, left his companion, let's call him B.  

No word to anyone in the cul de sac.

Just left.

A little backgrounding: A had bought the house about 25 years ago.  B had moved in about 10 years ago.  B, similar to Monty Woolley's character in The Man Who Came to Dinner, wanted to be kept in a certain lifestyle, sans work, either paid or domestic.  

A let him.

We were wondering why we hadn't seen A for a while.  But we hoped it was a simple family matter, helping a relative, yadda, yadda, yadda.

In mid-December B popped in while we were trying to get ready for the holidays.  First he said A was missing.  We suggested calling the police.  No need to.  Police were already involved.  A had gotten a peace bond against B, who had been told to vacate the premises.  B had changed the locks.  

Oh.

B also was hoping we'd escort him to our church for some fellowship.  A Christmas dinner, perhaps?

No.

Lips quivering, B said he would leave a few days before Christmas, so A could have Christmas in his own home and invite his widowed Mom.

Ah.

B then went on to talk about his heroes, the Branch Davidians, who had caused a ruckus a few years ago.  B is from Texas and likes guns and the "circle the wagons" approach.

Oy.

Okay... B, not A, is still in the house.

No sign of A.

On January 13, at 8:30 pm, we heard some loud thuds coming through our living room wall.  The wall facing A's house.  

The houses in our cul de sac are close.  

About enough space to squeeze a car between them.

I looked out the window.

The snow on A's front lawn had been disturbed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the snub nose of B's truck.

He had backed it, wedged it, between our houses, so that it now blocks his door.

It makes quite a barricade.

The next day the mail carrier passed the house, the other neighbors shook their heads.

Oy.