The unfortunate reality of breaking into a house is that you have to wait until your victim leaves before you can do the dirty work. By the time my neighbor from hell finally left, it was nearly eleven in the morning and I was already five hours late to work. A huge pain in the ass, if not really surprising by this point.
Was I about to do something highly illegal? Yep. Did I give a shit? Nope. There came a point when a man needed a solid six hours of sleep, and I had surpassed that point approximately 27 days ago. I simply couldn't function on three hours of sleep any longer, especially since most days I operated heavy machinery.
Now, I knew the reasonable thing to do would have been to consult my lawyer before I hopped over the fence dividing our properties—and by hopped over, I really mean climbed out of my bedroom window, dangled from the windowsill until my feet reached my neighbor's ten-foot tall iron fence, and then silently dropped down into her yard. I'm sure my lawyer would have come up with a more legal, perfectly respectable way for her to calm her shit, and it would have been all fine and dandy. But by that point, I probably would have long perished from accidentally driving my bulldozer into a cement wall or something, thus defeating the need for said lawyer.
Instead, I'd have to come to terms with my newly-minted criminal status.
I landed on my neighbor's immaculately mown lawn, reluctantly impressed that the place was well-maintained despite the nightly ragers she loved throwing. Not a blade of cut grass in sight, not one single leaf floating in the beautiful blue pool—and no electric box, either.
I swore, my eyes scanning for where the original construction company might have installed the electricity. I ducked behind a tree, half-convinced security cameras were already alerting the authorities to my presence. Perhaps it would have been better to come up with an actual plan before I launched myself onto someone else's property.
I'd just blame it on the sleep deprivation if anyone caught me.
Muttering to myself about the stupidity of what I was doing, I crept over to the back door, thinking that surely the electric box would be located in the garage. In my experience, the garage and backyard in houses like this one were usually both connected to the kitchen, which meant I would only have to pass through one room on the way to my destination. I'd barely be inside at all.
My hand paused on the doorknob. Being caught in someone's backyard could maybe be explained away, but sneaking into a house was full-on breaking and entering. Not exactly an item an upstanding pillar of the local business community should add to his résumé. I shrugged; maybe I'd be caught and sent to jail, or maybe I'd get away with it. Either way, I'd end up getting more sleep.
I twisted the knob, shaking my head when it easily opened. As much as I hated my neighbor, a beautiful woman like her—or anyone, really—shouldn't leave her doors unlocked. Who knew what kind of creeps were around?
Wait, wouldn't that make me the creep in this scenario?
I poked my head inside, pleased when I discovered that it was indeed the kitchen. Like the yard, this room was also immaculate, not a single item out of place. It was almost a little creepy. Maybe my hellish neighbor was secretly a female Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, where during the day she was a normal person, but at night she become my worst nightmare.
I vaguely wondered if anyone else in this development had actually met this girl, since both of our houses sat at the end of the drive, secluded from everyone else. She kept really weird hours, usually leaving her house around mid-morning, returning for a bit in the afternoon before leaving again for most of the evening.
Her schedule didn't prevent her from throwing loud parties most nights, though. My ears could attest to that, especially since my bedroom was on the same side of the house as her pool. I was still furious about the Inflatable Incident, and that had been weeks ago.
But now that I'd seen her immaculate yard, I had to wonder if the vomiting I'd thought I'd heard last night was, in fact, a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination. How else could this place be so clean, so soon after such a party? The last one had literally ended nine hours ago, and I had to assume that she'd spent most of that time sleeping, unlike me.
I pushed such thoughts out of my head and focused on the task at hand. As expected, I found the electric box in the garage, which also was unlocked. Seriously, who didn't lock the garage door to her own home? I could have just waltzed in and avoided my tangle with the fence.
Jerking the box open, I quickly scanned the various electric and HVAC lines for the property. A near giddiness swept through me at the thought that I'd actually get a decent night's rest this evening. I pulled the commercial-grade electric time switch out of my pocket and stroked it almost lovingly.
Now, which electricity could she do without after 10 p.m.? Definitely the outdoor lights and any outdoor electrical outlets—it would be rather hard to have a midnight pool party with no pool lighting and no ability to plug in that damn music. A certain evil part of me was tempted to mess with her air conditioning. In Arizona, going without air conditioning would quickly become intolerable.
But I liked to consider myself a good person. It would stay, so I killed the downstairs lighting instead. She could just do whatever it was she normally needed to do at 2 a.m. on the second floor instead. I doubted such a neat freak would want a bunch of people traipsing through her bedroom, so with the combination of no outdoors and ground floor lighting, she'd probably be forced to send everyone home. I smiled at the thought.
Well, working in construction certainly made this easier. I attached the time switch to the various lines with ease, disabling the electricity from ten at night until six in the morning, and then shoving the switch behind the wires to hide it. I seriously doubted my meddling would last more than a day or two, but I'd take it at this point. Anyone with half a brain would immediately go to the electric box as soon as the lights went out. Maybe if I was really lucky, she'd give up in the dark and I'd have some blissful silence even if just for this one evening.
Closing the box, I shook my head again at her unlocked garage door. She'd certainly made my escape easier. Still, I glanced out the window and peered around cautiously to make sure the area was deserted. With my current luck, the damn mailman would probably deliver the mail the moment I stepped outside.
But to my relief the street was empty, so I slipped out of her house and made for my truck, whistling softly for the first time in a long damn time.
The unfortunate reality of breaking into a house is that you have to wait until your victim leaves before you can do the dirty work. By the time my neighbor from hell finally left, it was nearly eleven in the morning and I was already five hours late to work. A huge pain in the ass, if not really surprising by this point.
Was I about to do something highly illegal? Yep. Did I give a shit? Nope. There came a point when a man needed a solid six hours of sleep, and I had surpassed that point approximately 27 days ago. I simply couldn't function on three hours of sleep any longer, especially since most days I operated heavy machinery.
Now, I knew the reasonable thing to do would have been to consult my lawyer before I hopped over the fence dividing our properties—and by hopped over, I really mean climbed out of my bedroom window, dangled from the windowsill until my feet reached my neighbor's ten-foot tall iron fence, and then silently dropped down into her yard. I'm sure my lawyer would have come up with a more legal, perfectly respectable way for her to calm her shit, and it would have been all fine and dandy. But by that point, I probably would have long perished from accidentally driving my bulldozer into a cement wall or something, thus defeating the need for said lawyer.
Instead, I'd have to come to terms with my newly-minted criminal status.
I landed on my neighbor's immaculately mown lawn, reluctantly impressed that the place was well-maintained despite the nightly ragers she loved throwing. Not a blade of cut grass in sight, not one single leaf floating in the beautiful blue pool—and no electric box, either.
I swore, my eyes scanning for where the original construction company might have installed the electricity. I ducked behind a tree, half-convinced security cameras were already alerting the authorities to my presence. Perhaps it would have been better to come up with an actual plan before I launched myself onto someone else's property.
I'd just blame it on the sleep deprivation if anyone caught me.
Muttering to myself about the stupidity of what I was doing, I crept over to the back door, thinking that surely the electric box would be located in the garage. In my experience, the garage and backyard in houses like this one were usually both connected to the kitchen, which meant I would only have to pass through one room on the way to my destination. I'd barely be inside at all.
My hand paused on the doorknob. Being caught in someone's backyard could maybe be explained away, but sneaking into a house was full-on breaking and entering. Not exactly an item an upstanding pillar of the local business community should add to his résumé. I shrugged; maybe I'd be caught and sent to jail, or maybe I'd get away with it. Either way, I'd end up getting more sleep.
I twisted the knob, shaking my head when it easily opened. As much as I hated my neighbor, a beautiful woman like her—or anyone, really—shouldn't leave her doors unlocked. Who knew what kind of creeps were around?
Wait, wouldn't that make me the creep in this scenario?
I poked my head inside, pleased when I discovered that it was indeed the kitchen. Like the yard, this room was also immaculate, not a single item out of place. It was almost a little creepy. Maybe my hellish neighbor was secretly a female Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, where during the day she was a normal person, but at night she become my worst nightmare.
I vaguely wondered if anyone else in this development had actually met this girl, since both of our houses sat at the end of the drive, secluded from everyone else. She kept really weird hours, usually leaving her house around mid-morning, returning for a bit in the afternoon before leaving again for most of the evening.
Her schedule didn't prevent her from throwing loud parties most nights, though. My ears could attest to that, especially since my bedroom was on the same side of the house as her pool. I was still furious about the Inflatable Incident, and that had been weeks ago.
But now that I'd seen her immaculate yard, I had to wonder if the vomiting I'd thought I'd heard last night was, in fact, a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination. How else could this place be so clean, so soon after such a party? The last one had literally ended nine hours ago, and I had to assume that she'd spent most of that time sleeping, unlike me.
I pushed such thoughts out of my head and focused on the task at hand. As expected, I found the electric box in the garage, which also was unlocked. Seriously, who didn't lock the garage door to her own home? I could have just waltzed in and avoided my tangle with the fence.
Jerking the box open, I quickly scanned the various electric and HVAC lines for the property. A near giddiness swept through me at the thought that I'd actually get a decent night's rest this evening. I pulled the commercial-grade electric time switch out of my pocket and stroked it almost lovingly.
Now, which electricity could she do without after 10 p.m.? Definitely the outdoor lights and any outdoor electrical outlets—it would be rather hard to have a midnight pool party with no pool lighting and no ability to plug in that damn music. A certain evil part of me was tempted to mess with her air conditioning. In Arizona, going without air conditioning would quickly become intolerable.
But I liked to consider myself a good person. It would stay, so I killed the downstairs lighting instead. She could just do whatever it was she normally needed to do at 2 a.m. on the second floor instead. I doubted such a neat freak would want a bunch of people traipsing through her bedroom, so with the combination of no outdoors and ground floor lighting, she'd probably be forced to send everyone home. I smiled at the thought.
Well, working in construction certainly made this easier. I attached the time switch to the various lines with ease, disabling the electricity from ten at night until six in the morning, and then shoving the switch behind the wires to hide it. I seriously doubted my meddling would last more than a day or two, but I'd take it at this point. Anyone with half a brain would immediately go to the electric box as soon as the lights went out. Maybe if I was really lucky, she'd give up in the dark and I'd have some blissful silence even if just for this one evening.
Closing the box, I shook my head again at her unlocked garage door. She'd certainly made my escape easier. Still, I glanced out the window and peered around cautiously to make sure the area was deserted. With my current luck, the damn mailman would probably deliver the mail the moment I stepped outside.
But to my relief the street was empty, so I slipped out of her house and made for my truck, whistling softly for the first time in a long damn time.
