When we first moved to this podunk little Texas town, I surveyed the scenery and determined that this town was half white trash and half non-white trash. And oddly enough, everyone was sort of mingled in with everyone else. There were nice houses right next door to run down houses and no one seemed to mind.
Mind you, I'm not used to this, so of course I turned up my nose at our neighbors who had bedsheets for curtains. I make no apologies for being a bitch sometimes.
Anyvajazzle, we have mainly kept to ourselves since moving here in April. We've only met one of our neighbors and she lives three houses down from us. And although I don't think I mean to, I've always felt a little superior to the other neighbors around us.
All of that changed this morning.
The hubs called about seven this morning and said he'd forgotten to feed the horses because he was running late, and would I mind running out and feeding them. I had just gotten out of the shower, so I was wearing pajama pants and an old fire school shirt of the hubs that had at least five holes in it, and had another old shirt wrapped around my head to dry my hair. Sexy, right? Since it was so early, I figured that our crackhead neighbors weren't up yet, so I'd just run out and feed really quick. Did I mention that I didn't have on a bra?
I could tell that the wind was crazy wild outside, so i grabbed a cardigan out of the closet and ran out the door.
Oh, wait, I also pulled on cowboy boots and tucked my pajama pants into them. I'm so stylish.
After I'd been out there long enough to go into the shed, pour up the feed, and come back outside to grab the feed buckets, I got the feeling I was being watched. It was then that I realized that my crackhead neighbors were indeed awake, and were sitting on their back porch watching me. And they had guests.
I closed up the shed and ran back into the house as quickly as I could with my head down.
So much for feeling superior. I've spent the last half hour researching how to live my new white trash lifestyle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be hanging out on my back porch with a Virginia Slim and a 40 oz while Baby Butterbean runs around in nothing but a diaper that's sagging down to her knees.
