Chapter 3: Mr. Cabbagehead's Garden (or Show Tunes From Apartment A... And All That Jazz)

My wife and I were married back in 2005 and we had taken things on the slower side as it came to real estate. We tried to be fiscally responsible, not falling into the trap as happens with American youth of over-extending yourself for the sake of owning something (because that's what our parents say we should do - not that the economy is anything like it was for them... but that's a different subject). So, we moved into a small apartment in our hometown. All was Disney vacations and World of Warcraft and Domino's delivery for a good time. We got a cat, a dog, a rabbit. Life was good.

"Come on babe, why don't we paint the town? And all that jazz."

Did you hear that?

We all heard it. My parents, 10 miles away, heard it. It was Chicago, from the downstairs neighbor (and probably heard by people IN Chicago). Ok, it's not overly late, we can pump the volume on the laptops a bit and get on with our WoW raiding. We'd been living there some time and there hadn't been any issues up to that point, so maybe the dude was having some party with some show tune fans. Everyone's entitled to be an inconsiderate ass every once in a while. So we went on with our night, soundtrack provided by neighbor in apartment A.

"I'm gonna rouge my knees, and roll my stockings down. And all that jazz."

Hours. Later. I wasn't an early to bed type back then. WoW was a bit of an addiction, and we'd shut down for night. So, some odd o'clock in the morning, and the walls are vibrating with show tunes. Knocking (using the term gently) on the floor didn't help any. Ringing the doorbell neither. So, like reasonable people, we call the police. I mean, we didn't know the guy, and it could be any of the neighbors who called, right? We can't be the only ones suffering.

"Start the car, I know a whoopee spot, where the gin is cold, and the piano is hot."

The cops come, and they ring his bell, again and again, again and again, they use a bullhorn to try to shout into the place, and it turns out dude is SUPER drunk. He lowers the volume, and the cops leave.

"It's just a noisy hall, where there's a nightly brawl. And all. That. Jazz."

The music is back on, and it's quickly followed by a knock on the door and some slurred shouting. The wife and I, we're young, so we call our parents as backup (probably should have called the police back, but no one is hurt during this story, so don't worry). The parent arrive and drunk guy is shouting at them, at us, because how dare we call the police, and it's show tunes, it's not like he's blasting hip hop or heavy metal, so we must be some kind of uncultured swine.

Turns out drunk dude has a rep with the apartment complex for doing this every now and again, but they refuse to do anything about it (I'm sure legally they can't, or maybe they can, but I'm not about to get lawyers involved in a place I have no real ties to, so whatever). We move.

I wish that were the end of the story, but at the condo there was rap, late drunken barbecues, and corn cobs on our lawn. At the house there was the drummer. At the in-law's there was the fence-breaker. At the SC house there were fireworks. All. The. Time. Back in NJ there are ants (they're still neighbors of a sort, right?).

Constant. Neighbor. Problems.

Much like Mr. Cabbagehead of Mr. Cabbagehead's Garden. He's got some neighbor problems too. It's a fun solo (now also 2-player game) that has you planting vegetables in an attempt to win the blue ribbon (so elusive). The only difference here is, you know how Mr. Cabbagehead's neighbors are going to mess with you and part of your game plan is to try to mitigate the potential problems they will cause. Also the game is over in a few minutes and you can shuffle those pains in the butt back into a deckbox. It's thinky and puzzly and it's nice having the annoying neighbors be a part of something fun instead of a constant migraine.

This has been my go-to solo game for around a month now, to the point that it is now my most played game of 2018 already (and I have yet to win that blue ribbon - I'm looking at you Lord Carrotbody of the Doughty-Chesterfield Carrotbody's). Recommended.