Missing And Confirmed Foreclosed

It's official. Next Door Neighbors (East) are this street's first foreclosure victim.

We had noticed that we hadn't seen them for a while. Their yard was more overgrown than usual, and the trellis was no longer near the front door. Tom noticed that the shed door was ajar, and no lawnmower was visible. The pontoon boat and RV, which they both used themselves and rented out, were not to be seen. No cars in the driveway, no lights in the windows.

I was preparing to launch Jen-Lancaster-Inspired surveillance on the property, to ascertain if they were, in fact, gone, and if they might be expected to return. I planned a photo log, depicting the increasing height of the lawn, as well as accumulation of fliers and junk mail. It was going to be brilliant, stealthy, and hilarious.

Then Tom blew that out of the water by simply asking another neighbor.

Obviously, this was not an avenue of investigation open to me, since I do not talk to neighbors. I have to get my information the good, old-fashioned American way. By spying. I was prepared to speculate on theories ranging from the Witness Protection Program to alien abduction, giant carnivorous squirrels, and spontaneous human combustion. Alas, that is no longer necessary.

This is troubling. Apparently, they were victims of a large second mortgage. I don't understand all the logistics of what happens when you do the giant home equity line of credit in addition to your mortgage, then default. One must assume, based on the empty house next door, that it isn't good. We've been in our house for thirteen years, and they were here long before we were, which makes it even sadder.

And this brings us, at the risk of great insensitivity, to the important point. How is this going to affect me???

They were good neighbors. In my universe, this means that they left me alone other than to occasionally wave when we happened to be pulling in or out of our driveways at the same time. They didn't give me grief about my sometimes-annoying dogs. They didn't invite me to barbecues or expect to be invited here. They didn't come knocking on the door to chat or borrow things. I think the only time Mr. Neighbor ever knocked on our door was one time about ten years ago when our gate had been left open and Sprocket wandered next door to visit, and he brought him home. "I think this is yours." (That is one of only three acceptable reasons to knock on my door. The other two are if you are bearing a giant cardboard check with my name on it, or a much-anticipated delivery such as my new laptop or a gift.)

The vacant house is on the corner of our street and the county road. We're the next house on the street. If it sits empty and falls into worse disrepair, it's not going to do great things for our already-depressed property value. I expect the men in the neighborhood will establish a lawn-mowing cooperative, because all our yards are pretty well-kept (Thank you, Tom. No, I'm still not willing to learn to drive the riding mower. Mowing Under the Influence is probably illegal. If it's not, it should be. And I'm pretty sure that's the only way to get me on the lawnmower... when my resistance is down.).

What if squatters move in? Or Republicans?

What if the house sells, and the new neighbors are obnoxious or - shudder - chatty? Not that I spend a lot of time visible in the yard (love the grapevine-covered privacy fence around the pool!), but what if they're the "lean over the fence and try to initiate conversations with the hermit-like, fur-covered, braless nutjob next door" type?

What if they have eighteen noisy children that run up and down the street, keeping Brody in a frothy bark-frenzy from dawn to dark? My bay window (and my nerves) can't take a whole lot of that.

Even worse... what if they don't like dogs? I know, I know, it seems unfathomable that someone wouldn't adore my dogs. But I see things on TV sometimes. Apparently there are people out there who don't enjoy huge, boisterous, vigilant, hyperactive, barking dogs. Not that I leave them out there to annoy people. When neighbors are out, I try to keep the dogs in. But they do have to go outside sometimes, you know, if only for potty purposes. Or in Darwin's case, to run off some of the energy he's built up, so that he doesn't destroy what's left of my house.

I don't mean to belittle the terrible thing that has befallen my former neighbors. I hope they land on their feet and get reestablished wherever they choose to settle. But this is a source of anxiety for me. There has been no change in our immediate neighbor population in all the years we've lived here. I had it figured out. They left me alone, I left them alone, and everybody was happy.

Now, I'm not so sure.

Vaya con lutefisk, former neighbors. It was nice not talking to you.