Mrs Bean the Crazy Meandering Machine

We have a elderly neighbor who likes to wander into everyone else's yard. It's kind of like "Where's Waldo", because no one knows who's yard she will be in next. Today she might be investigating our garbage, but tomorrow she might be peeping into your front window. Until recently, she was on the architectural review committee of our neighborhood association, but her term either finally expired (after 48 consecutive years) or her Sanford and Son landscaping and yard art didn't appeal to the committee. As frightening as it seems, she still drives and she is a firm believer in the "I'll take my half in the middle" school of automobile lane changing (as evidenced by witnessing her turn left from the right hand lane the other day). Most days she can be found cruising the streets in her white Ford Focus far, far from her own home. She has managed to vex just about everyone on the street with her intense scrutiny of all of our lives. Though she might be wearing yesterday's breakfast on her pajamas today, she isn't the least bit hesistant to knock on your door and tell you that your garbage cans are exceeding their capacity or your recycling is out too early.

Lee and I have created a story line with her as the lead character. Because she is so odd, it's only fair that she should have a fictional villian fashioned after her. By day, our protagonist, who we will call Mrs Bean, ambles up and down the street in her inside out pajama top with her long stringy grey hair in a pony tail off to the side. As she walks, stuporously, she runs her fingers through her pony tail over and over and over again. By night she lurks high in the trees in her leather cat suit, stroking her whiskers and listening to the details of other peoples' lives. As she jumps from tree to tree gathering information she purrs with satisfaction. She is a spy, really, and with this evidence, she will damn people. 2710 leaves the water on while they brush their teeth. 2738 has not converted to LED lighting. 2800 drinks organic milk, but they throw their aluminum cans in the garbage.

I've decided that I need to institute a "Mrs Bean Alert" for my neighbors. Whenever she is in one of their yards sifting through the shrubbery at 8:46 am or driving dangerously close to someone's grass (who remembers the term, "trenching your yard"), an APB must be sent out to all who are within earshot. Instead of an "Amber Alert" it is an "Old Woman Alert". My next step is to install lights in the trees so when she is perched up on a branch in her leather cat suit, the floodlights will shine on her directly.

So, if you see someone in your trees late at nite, remember Mrs Bean's Ford Focus can wander far from home!