The Sage Pointe Nine – Too Many Toys for the Toybox

A Lesson on Gluttony.

Previously, I wrote about the Weede family and their fusty skunk hijinx, and that story kept on expanding over time, not only with the odors, but with their possessions, too.

To recap:  In one apartment lived the matronly mother and one of her grown sons.  Directly across the hall lived her daughter, her husband, and their passel of kids.  Then one hot mid-summer day, the Weede family expanded their population in the Sage Pointe complex with the matron’s other son, his girlfriend, and their baby who all moved in with her.  That made a total of nine Weedes in two apartments: five people in Mamma Weede’s place, and four in the other.

One of the messes in the common areas that pointed to the Weede family was the indoor pool area.  It became messier with a sickening overload of beach balls, floats, and tiny plastic toys sitting at the bottom of the pool that they left, as if the pool area was theirs alone.  They wouldn’t clean up their possessions.  Instead, they left their things for other residents to trip over.  Moreover, that family complained a lot when the pool was in repair.  La-di-da.  It even got to a point that they left their pool toys all over the common property, and one beach ball made it to the pond area, and it’s been sitting there for months upon months.  There it is in the lower portion of this photograph, in all its pink and white glory:

In the end, the Weedes’ presence swelled with their toys, tricycles, sand shovels, dolls, and baseball bats that hung like spores in the common areas, tucked around the buildings, in the grass, and by the pool.  They were a reminder that some households don’t just live in a building; they colonize it and make it unpleasant for the other owners who respect neighbors.  Yet, at Sage Pointe, the Weedes were not merely neighbors.  They were an atmosphere of eccentric proportions that took over and conquered.

It’s something to behold when people have so many possessions that they don’t miss them when they are scattered hither and yon.  That’s the clue when gluttony becomes the norm.