Turf Wars

My neighborhood sits on some prime real estate.  This is only my opinion, of course, but let me share with you my observations.  We have been in the middle – bystanders – to some turf wars the past few years.

It all started with the indigenous gopher tribe.  We live in a desert so this makes sense.  Not familiar with gophers?  They are a skittish lot.  A species that does not know how to relax.   It seems their lot in life is to flit about like a group of nervous Nellies.  I swear they have a store of coffee in their underground tunnels.  The Java Joe Go’s also let out a nervous whistle from time to time.  A high pitched, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” echoes throughout the neighborhood.

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Pests and Rodents

My brother left to serve a mission when I turned twelve years old.  The day we got back from dropping him off at the MTC, I moved myself into his basement bedroom.  My mom approved the move, she was just too tired and probably a little too sad to help me.  So, I moved everything but the furniture myself.  By the time I moved out years later, I was very tired of living in the basement.  I promised myself I would never live in another basement again.

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