But it’s hard not to get into a groove. Every week letters come to Calvin and me from Children’s Protective Service. Every week a social worker calls or comes by to make sure the kids don’t have marks or bruises on their arms, legs or torsos. Every day the water in the hot tub gets murkier. Every day boxes pile up on her stoop. Every day we talk to a contractor or an insurance person about rebuilding the basement. Every day she drunkenly rolls down the alley in her brand-new silver car blasting classic rock.

Last night Maggie tweeted a photo of dirty underpants on the floor with a vague insult directed at me. Calvin practically ordered me to report it to Twitter. I said I would, but I won’t. No one but the people who are afraid of her reads her Tweets. I cannot summon the energy to report a typo-riddled insult above a soiled pair of large red undershorts.

Every morning we check security footage. A favorite from last week was Maggie, wearing only underpants, coming out on the stoop at 3 AM.

The always ongoing CPS investigations don’t cause stress anymore. I realized I forgot to alert my mom or anyone that more CPS calls were coming about whether Calvin and I are abusive, exploitative parents. When your CPS social worker tells you that your neighbor is “an animal,” it’s hard to take the investigation seriously. At the moment our CPS person said that, I felt defensive for Maggie!

I think I am developing a slight case of Stockholm Syndrome (which I just typed as Copenhagen Syndrome). Maybe I actually have Copenhagen Syndrome, which is when your captor irritates you for so long, you become a tiny bit possessive of them. Or maybe it is that I like animals more than Maggie?