neighbors from hell

I don't think I've ever mentioned it...but I have the neighbors from hell. And thats an understatement. There are no words to accurately describe them. They've lived there for 30 years or so, and have driven out every family that has ever lived in our house.

They're in their 60s or 70s, both retired teachers (actually fired for abuse, but that's another story). Their only purpose in life is to make our lives hell. And today they finally broke me. Maybe its the hormones, but I can't take it anymore. As soon as B gets back in the house I'm telling him that we have to move.

We've lived here for almost 3 years, and its been pure hell the entire time. We live in a ginormous house on a pristine lake. This has been enough for me, until now.
It's a beautiful day. I took the dogs down to play fetch in the water. A lab from waaaay down the beach came running onto the neighbors beach...and of course my dogs ran to him. The bitch next door started screaming to "get those fucking dogs out of here" and coming down from her deck like she was going to do something. B was in the boat and started screaming/swearing at her...they started going back and forth while I was trying to get the dogs to cooperate.

Then I lost it. I said something like "shut the f*ck up you stupid dirty c*nt. They're dogs. They don't know any better." Yeah...I'm not the yelling/swearing at other people type of person, but with our history it doesn't take much to escalate things.

B ended up grabbing Mabel and I followed Haley and Tungsten down the beach with the other dog, up the other (nice) neighbors property, and into their kennel. Then I walked down to the lake to make sure B put Mabel inside. Thats when I found B and "the f*cks" (that's our affectionate name for them) screaming at each other. And of course the old bastard was taking pictures of B...cause thats what they do (they also video tape and audio record us any chance they get...no matter what we're doing).

So I yelled a few more choice words. Then, as I was almost inside the door the bitch called me "pork butt".

oh. no. she. didn't.

I turned around, grabbed my belly and ass and said "it's called 5 months pregnant, you stupid c*nt". Then I walked inside and have been bawling ever since.

Okay. The name hurt. But I just hate living (albeit in paradise), knowing that my every move is being watched/recorded. I can't stand living here, knowing that my dogs are in danger if they step one paw on the wrong side of the property line. And what happens when our kids are a little older? What if their ball rolls onto their property? Do I have to worry about them yelling at/hitting/shooting them (I'm not exaggerating)?

F*ck.

And to make things more complicated we can't just put the house on the market. It's not techincally ours...my FIL bought it as an investment (but we pay most of the mortgage).

**update: I'm feeling much better...revenge will do that to a person. We filled up a clear 2.5 gallon plastic bag with dog sh*t, poked a bunch of holes in it and hung it from a shepards hook on the property line. Should smell really good in a few days. Bastards.