My Fence! She Burns!

So Dave and I came home from the grocery store to find a portion of our fence charred and smoldering. Yeah. Can you say holy shit? Like I need that kind of stress, right?

How did our fence catch fire you ask? Well, you see, we have neighbors who smoke and who have friends who smoke. It seems someone just dropped a cigarette butt and--whoosh!--the whole thing went up. It was windy as hell here today, and our neighbors don't exactly take the best care of their back lawn. Like a fucking tinder box...

Look, I'm fairly open about the fact that I think smoking is a filthy habit, but I'm super tolerant of smokers so long as they're responsible. Don't blow smoke in the faces of non-smokers, kids, or pregnant women. Be safe with your butts and ashes. That's all I ask. What you do with your lungs is your business.

But this is ridiculous. I've already got anxiety problems. Now, every time I leave the house, I've got to worry about whether or not our neighbors are going to burn down our damn house with the dog inside. Or catch our house on fire when I'm asleep.

We left them a note because they weren't at home. They called, apologized and promised it won't happen again. Of course, they blamed it on their cleaning lady. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I'd be more inclined to believe them, if they hadn't lied about *not* knowing any smokers. Huge untruth. During March Madness, that backyard was chock-o-block full of smoking and drinking men.

So anywho. Be wary of your neighbors, folks. You just never know when you're going to come home to a blazing fence!