Nosy Neighbors

I think we may have some nosy neighbors.

You may recall my many posts about our lack of rain and my county's tight watering restrictions. The day back in June that Georgia was officially granted drought status, my county banned outdoor watering completely. Naturally, I was upset about this. We moved into this house over the winter, and since then I have spent many hours outside in the yard planting new perennials and sprucing up the landscaping that was already in place. I've put in too much of my time and effort (not to mention money) to watch all these new plants shrivel up and die. So I started collecting rainwater and gray water to use on them. Soon after this, my county replaced the total watering ban with a very restrictive twice-a-week midnight-to-10am watering schedule. Since I still can't water as often as some plants need a drink, I kept on collecting water to use in between watering days. Success! So far I haven't lost a single new plant. A few of the old dogwoods don't look too good, but they weren't in the best of shape when we moved in.

Well, today there was something on our front step when we came home from work. It was a stack of five identical brochures about the dangers of mosquitoes that was published by the county health department. Okaaaayyyy. I'm a little irritated by this. First of all, we are not stupid. I am well aware of the fact that mosquitoes breed in standing water, and I don't like mosquitoes. Clearly, I don't intend on breeding any extras. But I read the brochure (one of them, not all five), just in case there was any information I was missing. And there wasn't - except I found out that it takes two weeks for the adult to emerge from the larval stage. I thought it happened faster than that, and had been acting accordingly. The collected water doesn't last a week, so I seriously doubt that a single adult mosquito has ever emerged from any water I have collected. I simply don't keep it around long enough. Aside from putting a little bleach in the water to discourage critters, I keep an eye on the containers and if I see anything at all wiggling in there, I dump the whole thing out on a big plant. End of problem. But just in case there is the slightest possibility that even one mosquito gets by me, I will get some of those mosquito disks that you can put into water that prevent the larva action. I've been meaning to do that for a while, because it is less potentially harmful to the plants than the bleach, and probably more effective. I'm irritated, but I'm not going to be a jerk about it. I don't want mosquitoes any more than my nosy neighbors do.

The other thing about this that ticks me off is the pile of brochures. Why did they feel the need to leave FIVE of these things? Honestly, what was the point of this? Was it intended to indicate the importance of the information, or perhaps meant as a gauge of the seriousness of the perceived offense? There are only two of us living here, unless they are counting our cats as readers. I found it insulting and rude. You don't need to tell me something five times, OK?

I'm curious about who, exactly, dropped these off. I find it hard to believe the county did it, because I doubt they are that efficient. Although leaving five copies is stupid and wasteful, which points to it being them. The other possibility is that a "helpful, well-meaning" (and damn nosy) neighbor (busybody) took it upon themselves to show us the error of our ways. I'm leaning toward option B. So to whomever left them... Okay! I get it! You're concerned! Deeply upset! You think we're stupid! You think we can't read! Mosquitoes are going to take over the whole neighborhood and it's all our fault! You think we can't take a subtle hint so you decided to do the brochure equivalent of clubbing us over the head! You think our containers of rainwater are ugly! (No doubt this is closer to the real concern. I think they're ugly, too, but not as ugly as a yard full of dead plants. And it's temporary. When the watering restrictions loosen up, I'll stop collecting rainwater.) What-EVER. I suggest you worry about your own damn yards and stop sticking your nose into ours. Or a giant mosquito might bite your face off.