Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Another day in the neighborhood.

Seen on the inter webs. It's not my sign. 

Perhaps not the best marketing message an anxious home seller should be using. 

I'll give it a 10 for attention getting purposes, but a 2 for strategy. After all, who wants to live next door to a certifiable douchebag? I don't. Particularly one with two vicious pitbulls, who have on multiple occasions, bolted through the front door to ambush my dog as I walked by on my way to the park. That's certifiable douchebaggery.

But I don't want to get into specifics regarding my close to 30 year beef with Mr. I Don't Give A Shit About Anyone Else. 

And just to be clear, the people who live on the other side of my house are some of the nicest in the world. Our dogs play with each other. Our daughters know their daughters. And we have broken bread and uncorked adult beverages with them. In other words, it's not me.

This is more of a general piece about our knowledge or lack of knowledge about the people who share the street, the air and the environment, in our nearest vicinity. 

From where I'm sitting, and because I work at home and write on the side, I'm in this incredible comfortable Herman Miller chair quite a bit, I am within a foot of a window that looks out onto the street. Moreover, I have security cameras situated on the roofline for maximum coverage of the street below. 

In short, I have what martial art instructors call "excellent environmental awareness." Add to that, my nature as an observer and student of human behavior.

Here's what I've noticed: 

Many people lead quiet, solitary lives. 

They don't go out on weekends. 

They don't have parties. 

They don't have friends over. I'm not sure some of my neighbors even have friends.

And it's not that they're unfriendly. I often run into and chat with them while walking my dog. Or, back in the day, when I would run my daily three miles in the neighborhood. 

Nor am I passing any judgment. It is only now, after multiple vaccinations, that we feel safe enough to have people over again, drink my expensive whiskey, use up my precious toilet paper, and leave me a sink full of dirty dishes. 

I don't know what to make of all this. Well, actually I do. 

I started writing a book about Neighbors I have known, and experienced, in the Before Times. Including the former president of Rhino Records, a professional dart player, and a sad actor who posed for many Younger Boy/Older Lady Spanking magazines in the late 80's. I've had some doozies.

If the lady's dog across the street would ever shut the fuck up, maybe I could revisit that unfinished project.

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