I’m not a hood guy.

My brother informed me of this when I told him that I had to move. Some people, according to him, are hood people, but I am not one of them. I am the kind of person that the hood chews up and spits out. How I’ve managed to stay alive without annoying the piss out of one of our neighborhood drug dealers is apparently proof positive of the existence of God.

Apparently my neighborhood scores higher on the ghetto quiz than I thought. I’ve never really paid attention, really. It’s always simply been home. Oddly enough, I’m only moving five minutes away, but there is a peculiarity about living in Indianapolis. There are serveral invisible dividing lines in the city that somehow separate good and bad neighborhoods. Judging from the weight of living above my means, I’m officially middle class. I already miss being poor and debt free. So …

Good-bye Big Momma. Candy Lady. Crazy Neighbors.
Good-bye the 1, 2, 3, … 4 liquor stores on the corner.
Good-bye check-cashing places (one for each liquor store).
Good-bye beer bottles on the corners from evenings of “lamping”.
Good-bye pawn shops.
Good-bye plasma place.
Good-bye wearing your portfolio around your neck, on your fingers, or in your mouth.
Good-bye parking your 401K in front of the house.
Good-bye gun shots on the 4th of July, Halloween, and New Year’s Eve.
Good-bye “soul skate” night that have the police locking down every street when it lets out.
Good-bye police helicopter searchlight that I no longer have to explain to my kids as the police coming by to say “hi.”
Good-bye pizza places that won’t deliver once it gets dark. Yes, I’m looking at you, Domino’s.

Um, coincidently, we are moving today – right now, as a matter of fact. Spring officially began earlier this week. Oh look: hail, then rain, then sunshine, then snow. I love Indiana. I am occupying myself by blogging. This is why God created wives. Mine’s abnormally strong. She looks so cute hefting our new couch. Well, we’re moving on up …

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