It’s comforting to hire a lawyer, and terrifying at the same time. Calvin and I, and the kids, have been feeling very aggressive toward Maggie. We mounted a concerted Twitter campaign not at her, but more around her. I probably don’t have to explain this, but trying to run a social media biting gnat strategy with two teenagers… it just did not go well.

Wyatt is pissed and he is feeling left out. Maggie likes him. Maggie says she likes him, has no problem with him. Maggie has actually said this to Wyatt. So here’s this thirteen-year-old watching his parents and sister get insulted and attacked, and yet she likes him. During the Night of the Hosings, Maggie accidentally hosed a special hand-mirror over onto our side of the wall. She was really giving it to me about my autistic daughter being nothing compared to her bisexual daughter. “I got a bisexual and you got a retard!” she had crowed triumphantly.

Now how does anyone answer that question? I said, “Okay,” and then Maggie jerked her head.

“My dancing mirror has fallen,” she said. “My mirror fell on your side. Pick it up!”

“Go get it,” I said. In retrospect, this was a stupid thing to say. I am new to the property-line protocols that come with crazy neighbors and I won’t make that mistake again.

“No, it’s on your property.”

See, Maggie knows the rules, and man, she could have totally gotten me. I would not have known how to handle her if she came into the yard. She does lunge at me, you know. I had been revving her up by closing the door of her car so the blasting music would be turned down. Each time I did it she bolted to reach her car and re-open the door.

I slipped away though. She can’t really catch me. We’re about the same size and build and coloring, but she has many physical problems that I don’t. She loves to talk about her ailments: arthritis and being an ex-dancer and just her back problem and she does hunch forward and move stiffly. Calvin thinks she can’t get over it. But she can. I’m ordering a lock from Amazon.

Back to dancing mirror. Beyond our gate is home base, and she can’t touch me there. If she does, she will be arrested but I may get injured. What fucking logic is this?

I try not to admit to myself that these are the rules we are playing by. Once in a while, I look at it straight on and realize it is like playing Ringolevio. I stay in that mindset because it’s more comfortable. I loved Ringolevio. When I was twelve, my cousins and I played that game when we sat Shiva for my grandfather at their house in Howell, New Jersey. We didn’t play those kinds of games in Paonia (quick–what is my fake Paonia name? DMs are open) and I thought it was the best game ever.

So I kick Maggie’s ass at Ringolevio, thank god.

Back to the “dancing mirror.”

I refused to fetch her the mirror but said, “Turn off the hose and I’ll get you the mirror.”

Absolutely not. She will not do anything for me and said, “Your kids told people not to vote for Biden!” That really threw me. Yes, it was the day of the New York primary, but Biden was definitely not the big story for me. We had hot local and state races. We had AOC and her creepy challenger. Biden sure, but who cared?

As I was stumped trying to figure out the Biden question, Maggie turned to Wyatt. “Get me my mirror,” she said. “I don’t have a problem with you. You’re fine.”

BURN.

So yeah, Wyatt is feeling pretty aggro at Maggie. As I’d mentioned up top, we are all simmering with fury. Breakfast was a silent, teeth-gnashing grind, and on top of that, I wouldn’t let Wyatt smash the dancing mirror.

Oh yes, we have the dancing mirror, and we enjoy it tremendously. It opens like a powder compact and there’s a LED light that turns on. Wyatt had built a brilliant Tweet reply ostensibly about the cat, but was really about the special object in the foreground.

Fantastic post. But we then saw his harsh posts, full of rough language and rage and name-calling. Calvin and I knew that we, er, I, had led the kids down this road, and we ragefully demanded full Twitter purges–tweets, replies, likes and the whole account.

Goodbye AntonoftheAlley! Fare thee well AaronoftheAlley! May you walk in power and in peace, AhmenoftheAlley.

I’m sorry Wyatt. I do have hope that you will be roundly loathed by Maggie in the pretty-near future. I’m sure you will be.