Life in the burbs

Some real asshole, one of my neighbors, is actually mowing the grass at 10:35 PM on a Tuesday evening.

This past weekend I was actually feeling like I had conquered the unmitigated disdain I have had for my new life in the suburbs after I took my precious dog for a walk on a lovely walking trail that could only exist in a paradise like suburbia. I had been thinking that now that the trees are in bloom all the houses in my subdivision look distinct and that all was right with the world here in WILCO. After all there are no armed robberies here in the burbs (leave me the hell alone UT armed robber! I'm a grad student, I'm poor AND I'm a bleeding heart liberal feminist teacher--my instinct would be to argue with you about the societal ills that have lead you to this desperate state rather than to just give you my money) and neighbors take pity on your when your husband is off fighting the GWOT and mow your grass for you, just not at 10:35 PM on a school night.

I'm so tired of life not being as perfect as I want it to be.