I was in my side yard watering my clematis one Saturday morning when I heard a woman’s voice. I looked up and around to see where the voice was coming from and noticed my neighbor’s kitchen window was open. She must be on the phone, I thought, since I continued to hear only her voice. I had turned my attention back to my clematis, when I heard her words loud and clear: “My horrible neighbor.” The words echoed in my head. I was not particularly shocked to hear the words, and actually chuckled a little to myself at first, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Of course, it is entirely possible that she was not talking about me – possible, but not very damned probable.