Neighbors Are the WORST

When we retired we moved into a community where the residents have to be over fifty-five.  You can, apparently, go out and get a trophy wife if you want to after you've moved in but even then she has to be forty.  No twenty-five year old trophy wives.  We like it here.  We weren't sure we were going to but it ends up being a nice place to live if a little dowdy and doddering at times.  It's quiet; we know our neighbors; everyone takes care of their little properties.  No kids, no large dogs, no semis parked on the street.  A while back the park management decided it would be acceptable for an adult child to move in with a parent as long as the child is serving as a "caretaker" if by "caretaker" you mean a "shiftless ne'er-do-well who's still comfortable living with their mother."  I'm being unkind here for comedic effect but you've either got to be really selfless to live in a mobile home with your mom or you're not doing too well in the real world.

So a sketchy looking dude moved in with his mother in the home right behind us and - at some point - his mother moved out.  So we've got a middle-aged handy-man working on cars and trucks and boats fifty feet from our bedroom while using the backyard to store a ton of crap that would do the term "trailer-trash" justice.  Since we got back we have enjoyed a woman yelling at the dude at midnight (gratefully quieting down when I stepped outside and said "hey, guys" to alert them to the fact that they were disturbing others although at that point she did suggest that she needed to get something out of her truck which was apparently parked in the dude's driveway and was inexplicably locked and politely told me I might just have to call the police which did get the dude's attention because the ruckus quieted after that; a lot of grinding gears and backing noises the next night as the dude and his friend backed a large boat under the small canopy; and finally the commencement of The Grinding phase where the dude is doing some kind of work on the boat that involves the destruction of something metal, intermittently, I'm so pleased to report.

I'm sure approximately none of this would pass park rules but the manager is very conflict-adverse, preferring to isolate in the management office most of the day instead of circulating among her people.  So what do I do?  Confront the sketchy due respectfully face-to-face and risk pissing an occasionally volatile man off who lives fifty feet from me?  Rat to the manager who will either do nothing or say something to the dude who will probably know immediately who's complaining and then I'm in the same boat (hah-hah) that I'd be in if I took the first course of action; or do nothing, hoping the work won't last too long and feeling grateful it isn't a constant irritation?  Sometimes I do things that end up making a situation that really isn't that bad much, much worse.  Sometimes I sit back and take it when I should do something to remedy a situation where I'm in the right.

I've talked to a few people.  I've kicked ideas around with SuperK.  I'm writing about it.  At this point I have no good feel for a right course of action which I've learned that I should not - yet, at least - take any action.  

Very frustrating for an action-oriented self-righteous guy who has The Law on his side in this particular instance.