I Still (?) Hate my Neighbor

So longtime readers of my blog may recall that I live above some stinkin' lazy-ass bastahds. I have referenced time and again their sins: They don't take out the trash, they don't shovel the driveway, they in general walk around hunched over and banging into things because their heads are shoved deep inside their anuses.

Now lately I have to admit they have shown some improvement. I think it was one of them that ran my walkman upstairs after I left it on top of my car, and when they filled the trash area up with a mountain of boxes and other assorted pieces of shit, they actually (again, I think, because I didn't actually seem them do it) dragged the stuff to the curb.

And mid-winter, after some wrangling, the wife started helping shovel the driveway.

But I cannot seem to let go of my hatred of them. Right now they are both outside; someone is visiting the husband. He is all "Hey, my brothah!" He is Caucasian. Is that enough reason to hate him? I have been filled with such delicious inky black poisonous feelings towards him for so long that it is hard to let it go.

They were noisy the other night and cooked some food which stank up my whole apartment. I will try to hold on to that. But they just aren't pissing me off like they used to.