Ask Kurt Kurmudgeon

Dear Kurt,

My across-the-street neighbor is a jerk wad, always in my business, mowing his lawn and running the leaf blower at 6 a.m. in the summer, and is constantly in screaming matches with his wife during all hours of the day and night. I know my Catholic School upbringing taught me to “turn the other cheek,” but I just want to punch this guy. Any advice?

— Seething in Syracuse

Dear Seething,

You’re right to want to throttle the guy. Anyone who thinks sunrise is the ideal time to rev up a leaf blower deserves a stern talking-to—or at the very least, a lecture on basic human decency. It’s always the ones with the loudest engines and the least self-awareness that end up living right across the street, isn’t it? The universe has a sick sense of humor.

Now, about your upbringing. “Turn the other cheek” is a nice sentiment if you’re dealing with the occasional spilled drink at a church potluck—not a walking, talking air raid siren with a landscaping fetish. If I had a nickel for every time “good Christian patience” was the only thing standing between me and a misdemeanor, I’d have enough to buy a pair of industrial-strength earplugs and a bottle of bourbon.

But let’s not get hasty. Punching the guy will only land you in a holding cell with a view of the same street, minus the lawn drama. Cops don’t take kindly to “he woke me up with his leaf blower” as a defense, no matter how justified it feels at 6 a.m.

Here’s the trick: out-curmudgeon the curmudgeon. If he’s out there mowing at dawn, you water your lawn at dusk. If he wants to play “marriage counseling, volume eleven” at midnight, you invest in a white noise machine—or, better yet, an old stereo that plays polka music and the Chicken Dance song really loud.  Turn it into a war of attrition, not escalation. Passive aggression is a pissed-off neighbor’s best friend.

You could also take the petty route and file a noise complaint, but that’s the nuclear option. Save it for when you really need it. Most people, like your neighbor, bank on nobody calling them out. The day you show up on your porch, arms folded, staring him down while he yells, you’ll see just how tough he really is. Spoiler: he’ll wilt faster than his over-watered begonias.

One last thing before you close your memo pad: neighbors are like family. You don’t pick them, but you’re stuck with them. Sometimes, the best you can do is grit your teeth, invest in blackout curtains, and keep a running tally of his offenses for your memoir. And who knows? Maybe one day, he’ll move. Or lose the leaf blower in a tragic, much-celebrated “accident” (wink, wink).

Yours in lifelong curmudgeonry, Love (but you know I don’t really mean it)
Kurt

P.S. Kids don’t try this (being a curmudgeon) at home unsupervised. It could be dangerous to your health.