Why is Stacy so crazy?

Dearest Stacy,

You are crazy. Really crazy.

Do you remember the night of April 10th? I was at the Poly baseball game, and Maggie had some of her girlfriends over. As one of the girls was coming in, you were at your door, and insisted that she take your vacuum cleaner. When she did not take your vacuum cleaner, you threw it at her.

You are crazy.

One and one-half weeks ago, I worked a half-day, only at a single job. This meant that I was home in the middle of a weekday. What did I do with my time? I was working on beating New Super Mario Bros. Wii. So I am home alone, playing video games in my living room. No stereo. No friends. Just me. Next thing I know, *KNOCK* *KNOCK*. You're at my door. "Can you please keep it down, I am working on something." Dub-tee-eff? Note: Volume was set at 7 on the tv. While watching 24 late Monday nights (DVR recorded so we're often after 10PM) the volume gets upwards of 40 and beyond. I am skeptical that my game is preventing you from hammering on your walls.

You are crazy.

I woke up yesterday morning to find a small metal carabiner clip on our back deck. Not mine. Not Maggie's. Sometimes things have come over our shared fence. So since we are avoiding contact with you, I placed this clip between our front doors, on our mutual front porch. This evening, we headed out the porch and the clip is gone. Maggie noticed a large bulge under our doormat. Upon further inspection, we find the missing carabiner, next to a large, hook-shaped tool. We share the walkway and stoop with you. We suspect that the clip is yours. Why, rather than taking it back, do you hide it under our doormat with a second, larger, odd, peculiar item?

You are crazy. Really Crazy.

Best Wishes,

Philip