There's a camper in my driveway

Don and I came home last Friday night to find a camper parked next to our patio. The drapes were closed, which signaled to us they were staying. Like sleeping next to our patio. Uh, hello. This is not a camp ground. I do not know you. And I doubt my neighbors do either. But I will investigate. Don't you worry! 

The license plates are from Arizona. So I'm assuming the nice folks who own this camper are visiting someone here on our street. And they didn't just randomly pick our curb to park and camp.

As I'm sitting here typing this Saturday morning I hear the camper door open. WAH! I jump off the lounge chair, run inside, and race to every window in the house, hoping to get a glimpse of the human inside. DOH! I missed them, but the door is still open. They will be back.

I'm starting to feel like a cross between Monk and Mrs. Kravits (from Bewitched.)

When all of a sudden SLAM! The camper door shuts. This time I just ran to the patio to see. Forget subtlety. I hop on the chaise and look. And I find a nice-looking older woman, all dressed and ready for the day, walking down our little street. She stops at another townhouse and goes inside.  PHEW. She's visiting someone here. I'm ok with that. As long as she doesn't dump any weird, smelly stuff from her camper/van in my personal space. Because that would be yucky.

So the camper left on Saturday and didn't come back. Good, they're gone. Then they came back - late Sunday afternoon. Grrrrrrrrr. They are back. So I boldly walked outside to see what was up. I don't know why it bothers me so much, but I really don't want them camping RIGHT THERE!!!!

So I think they got the message because they moved the camper van to another spot, which is closer to their friends. GOOD! Be closer to YOUR friends, not my house. Thankyouverymuch.

I know. I'm a freak.