Advice from a small town girl

Today I’m rethinking my position on illegal immigration.

Some undocumented aliens have set up housekeeping in my front yard.

They’re not unattractive, until they open their mouths. They certainly don’t speak English.

And they talk A LOT.

LOUDLY.

Their conversation always sounds urgent, unlike the measured, almost sweet cadence of their northern cousins.

They’re driving me crazy.

Or at least they will unless I find some way to live with them.

Because, you see, I realize there’s nothing I can do about them.

Sure, I could try to scare them away. Then they’d just become someone else’s problem. Lik...