Episode 34: There goes the neighborhood

Loyal readers, I am sad to say that some unfortunate events took place this week that signify the end of an era in this blog's history.

I regret to inform you that the obese sweatpants family has moved on from Roslyn St. Evicted by their landlord and sent away in the night, only to return the next day to retrieve a mere fraction of the hermit-like collection of junk that dominated their apartment.

Police have been coming back and forth from the green house since we moved in to the neighborhood, but we always suspected it was some sort of domestic violence involving 300lb sweatpants man, his wife and his (rumored) retarded brother. As the summer came to a close, however, it became apparent that the bulk of the confrontations took place between the sweatpants family and the building's landlord, who I believe lives in the apartment upstairs.

Loud battles in the driveway and in front of the house revealed that sweatpants family was living in squalor in a house filled with trash, useless trinkets and I am guessing some unkempt animals.

A yard sale soon followed (which I still kick myself for not attending) and soon after the circa 1988 Ford Bronco, sitting filled front to back with trash in their driveway, was hauled away by Bill's Auto Clinic- who were clearly just the middle men in a long, sad journey to the junkyard across the street that is polluting the water adjacent to the train tracks.

All of these signs pointed to an inevitable conclusion. The filthy, dysfunctional failures I loved to observe would be no more.

In what I like to think was somewhat of a classy move, but probably wasn't, the father took the two young daughters away in the night last week in a large, green minivan. The next day he sat in said minivan for upwards of three hours while a crew of movers removed his belongings from the house. Saddened, I watched the saga unfold from my window, hoping to witness something noteworthy. It didn't happen.

Yesterday the final chapter was written as a junk removal company pulled up in front of the house and proceeded to free the first floor apartment of any and all remaining evidence of the family's residence there. They were there for a long time, too, I can only imagine what they puled out of that place.

A little side note- when I was in the early years of college I spent my summers working for the Pittsfield Housing Authority where a large part of my job was to clean out apartments in the projects when families would move out in the night. This happened frequently, as it was the projects, where crack dealers and prostitutes need to leave in a hurry sometimes. The crap we found in those places was unreal. Sometimes disgusting, other times funny. Either way, I wish I could have seen the inside of that place because I bet it would be project-worthy.

After watching the junk removal company for a while I stopped to reminisce for a moment before saying my final goodbyes to one of my top sources of neighborhood entertainment.

Later in the day I saw my downstairs neighbor actually leave the house, somewhat restoring my faith in humanity. At the same time three college girls looked at another apartment across the street. It was 2:45 p.m. They were wearing sweat pants... and all faith is once again lost.

As for my kid, she can drink from a cup now and she ate spaghetti- o's today. Unfortunately, those developments did not make her tired, so I have to go tend to her needs again.

R.I.P. dysfunctional, obese sweatpants family. You will be missed.