Hey You Kids, Get Off My Bog

It may surprise anyone who knows me to learn that I've recently become a property owner. It's true!

I certainly couldn't afford to buy property on a freelance writer's pay- I can't even afford basic cable. And no rich relative died and left property to me, as I don't have any rich relatives.  

Thankfully, the good people of Laphroaig single-malt scotch whisky bequeathed to me one square foot of Islay, near the distillery. You get this when you sign up for their customer loyalty program, Friends of Laphroaig.

When you sign up, you get a certificate mailed. It says they'll take care of the land for me, and I can collect the rent of one dram of Laphroaig per year at the distillery.

Then the fun part starts. You can go online and look at your plot on satellite map:

As you can see, they gave me a plot of land somewhere along the fence. Then I looked up my neighbors:

I'm surrounded by foreigners! This is terrible. What about my property value?

In an effort to avoid conflicts, I have developed a set of rules that I'll be handing out at the next neighborhood association meeting.

Neighborhood Rules

1. Keep your own yard mowed. I don't want your peat patch looking like a barley field.
2. No horseplay. No running. 
3. No parking on the dancefloor.
4. Keep your decorations to a minimum- flags only permitted on flag day, Christmas trees on Christmas, and never any lawn umbrellas.
5. Absolutely no Jarts.