My Psychotic Neighbors, Part II

Hey all!  There's been some updates on the crazy neighbors situation, so I figured I'd blog it for the interested masses, also known as my mother.

So, a recap of the present situaton because my last post was long and arduous:

Tuesday:  I take shower, Mrs. Schmidt hits ceiling, as you do.

Wednesday:  Someone has let the air out of my back tire.  Schmidt's freak out when I ask about it.

Thursday:  Nice neighbor comes by to inform us our neighbors are racist assholes. Roommate and I go to House People.  House People are way nice, agree this situation is retarded.  Call the Schmidt's to let them know.

Friday:  Someone has let the air out of my back tire, again.  Al comes over with his bike pump, we determine for certain it is not my wheel.  I buy a camera because I have had it UP TO HERE.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday:  Nothing out of the ordinary happens.

Tuesday:  Camera catches Mr. Schmidt fucking with my bike.  I decide to sit on the photos for a few days and think.

Wednesday:  Do lots of reading outside.  Nice Neighbor gives me applesauce.


Today:  I showed Al the pictures of Mr. Schmidt, just to get a second opinion, because I knew what they looked like to me, but Lord knows embellishment and exaggeration are pretty much my way of doing things.  To my surprise, he agreed with me that the pictures were really suspicious, and it most definitely appears as though my neighbor is doing something to my bike, the question is, what?  So we marched down to my bike, he inspected it, and determined that someone had unscrewed the cap to the back tire.  Seeing as you have to screw it, it's not something that jiggles out of place while biking.  Fine.  Not close to the end of the world, but it still left me with the conundrum of what to do about it.

After much debate, I decided to go to House People again today.  Al suggested waiting until I have something more solid and threatening the Schmidt's with the photos in the meantime, but as he also pointed out, I'm American--we don't talk about dropping bombs, we just drop bombs, bitches.

So I went to the House People and they were more than amazing about the whole situation.  I told them I'd set up the camera, caught some weird pictures, and I'd like their opinion on it.  They were totally shocked by the photos, complimented me on the camera idea, and questioned the intelligence of the Schmidt's.  They asked for the photos by email and called the Schmidt's to yell at them.  Which was a pretty hilarious conversation, mostly because Mrs. Schmidt kept insisting her husband has never touched my bike, while House Lady stared at the pictures in front of her and tried not to laugh.  I was instructed to carefully document in writing everything that happens--because if anything else does happen, they'll have zero qualms about kicking the Schmidt's out.

So, that's what I'm doing.  The camera will continue to go up and any verbal encounters I have with them will be both written down and recorded.  My plan is to just stay calm, stay quiet, and let the Schmidt's punch themselves in the face.

Here is my sword.  It is not my fault if you walk into it, idiots.