A word about "my" house

The house where I grew up is in a town not that far from where I live now. Although it is (and I find this frankly unbelievable) about 15 years since my parents sold the house*, I am still very possessive about the house and very critical of any and all changes that have been made to it since we moved out. I mean, for example, you just have to look at it to see that it is supposed to be painted white with black trim, rather than that odd shade of gray-eggplant, but whatever.

*And I have actually forgiven them for this, by now.

This is not "my" house, but just to give you an idea: Queen Anne Victorian type. Turret. Yeah.

Last summer when my cousin was visiting, we went by the house so that she could see it as it now is. She was hoping that we could talk our way into seeing the inside, but no one was home, so we had to content ourselves with walking down the driveway and looking in the kitchen windows. (What? To see if anyone was home!) They "changed" (read: messed up) the back porch, and they seem to be using the hall door instead of the kitchen door, which is senseless, but who knows. And what's up with that "terrace" thing by the garage? Is that supposed to be pretty?

After the unfortunate paint choice, my biggest gripe is that they changed the driveway. It's a long driveway past the side of the house, which had an area behind the house to turn around in (for cars, I mean), and they took the turn-around out. Why? Why would you change something so massively useful? It's not like it's a small yard and they needed the space, there's plenty of room for grass and flowers and bushes and trees as it was.

So (were you wondering if I had a point? here it comes), I was driving by the house the other day, and I could see a car at the end of the driveway, trying to back out into the street. Backing out? Now are you glad you took out the driveway turn? Silly people.

Although it's not a highway, it's always been a busy street, and the car was out far enough to block traffic on that side. The car in front of me (perhaps feeling that anyone silly enough to back out onto that street without the courage of their convictions* deserved no help) did not slow or stop to let it out. I did, partly because I was well brought up and partly to enjoy more quiet jeering.

*I learned to drive in Boston. If you're going to do something questionable on the road, just do it and be quick about it. If you're going to hesitate, to waffle, you're really going to piss people off, far more than you would if you just cut them off efficiently.

I just don't know what they were thinking. Mutter, mutter.