I just found out my neighbors' son (who is 45) has been locked out of the house, and is sleeping in their tool shed. God knows where he is pissing. Combine this with their Madonna in a lit up niche, and I have very odd neighbors. This is the same neighbor who bought a pair of my sister's size eight women's jeans (in blinding Journey white, mind you) at a garage sale we had last year and tried them on right there at the garage sale and said "Fifty cents, I've got it." He bought them and wore them proudly all day. We randomly get calls for him, because our last name is the same as their last name, and people leave messages that say "Come haul our junk" and "We are the police, do you know how to get in touch with R____?" Good lord!