Monday, March 24, 2014

Meet the Neighbors ....six months later

"And now I'd like to sing a little number I call, "Sorry I never introduced myself and stared at you from behind my blinds instead."
Morning Readers,

I'm not sure if there's some type of international hermit competition, but if so, I should probably consider entering.

As long as it doesn't involve me leaving the house.

Maybe I just answered my question.

At any rate, the instances I interact with the outside world are shockingly low. The internet is one thing. Getting dressed and walking into the sunshine, wearing pants, is another. Which is why it took me so long to meet our new neighbors. Some people probably think it's rude not to go up and introduce yourself with an edible flower arrangement right away, but I'm the type of person to let you settle in for a fortnight or five.

But that was before a rather plump Jack Russel terrier skittered into my living room.

"Hello. Did we adopt someone else and no one told me?"

The dog looked me over.

"I suppose no one told you what happened to the fish. If you're looking for temporary lodging, I highly suggest a Motel 6."

He responded by yipping and running towards the couch.

"Ok, maybe a Hampton Inn? I guess I don't know anything about your breeding. Some people are particular about the type of mini soaps they give the old five finger discount."

For the next minute, I wrestled a fat greased pig from under the coffee table, and, putting him in a football hold, marched next door.

*Knock knock*

"Hi there."

"Oh, did he get out?"

I nodded like a mute and held the wiggling terrier in midair.

"This dog. I swear. You know, one day he got out of our old house and walked right into the neighbor's living room? Insanity."

Yoga pants, hair thrown back in no particular order, baby peaking out from around the corner of the couch, I knew I'd found a kindred spirit. I didn't have the heart to say her dog had walked into our living room as casually as a former owner there to critique how we'd upgraded the number of holes in the wall from three to ten.

I filled the next minute with word vomit:

"Sorry didn't come over sooner. Kids. Love your baby. Here all day. Hermit. We have dog. Kids. Twins. Baby fills day by base jumping off cabinets. Saw our dog? Sorry if the twins yell things like, "Our cat's not yours and he's a boy not a girl" at you. Welcome?"

She was very kind and nodded along while I rambled, so I suppose it went ok. Afterwards, my old pub crawl t-shirt and I wandered home to see what the kids had broken while I was gone. Turns out, they'd been so perplexed by seeing me pull a Jack Russel out of the furniture and charge out the unused front door, they'd simply stayed put and were still waiting in the middle of the room when I got back.

Miracles happen occasionally.

I tell ya, at the rate we're taking on animals here, I might just have to head to a Motel 6. Nothing wrong with being a hermit who uses room service.
I'll just stay for a fortnight or eight.

Until Next Time, Readers!


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15 comments:

  1. I was just thinking the other day "Am I less cultured (or human) because I never wear jeans anymore?" LOL - WAHM problems

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    1. At first I thought, "Maybe I'm less cultured for not wearing jeans." And now it's more like, "If I never wear pants again, am I still allowed in the grocery store?"

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  2. Fret not. We've lived here 14 years. I have no clue what the neighbor guy or his wife's name is - they've been here the whole time. Their daughter graduated HS a few years ago and came over to invite us. It said "neighbor" on the card. She was sweet, told me their names, heck if I remember. I know their dog's name and their boy's name, does that count?? Meh, I just wave. :)

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    1. The funny thing is, we're really social people once we get out of the house. It's just the getting out of the house that presents the obstacle. But there's something about charging up to someone's door and getting in their business that makes me curl into the fetal position for some reason. Why? Why? I'll take fourteen years and think about it...lol

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  3. Paige,

    I wish you lived next door to me. I am the same way. I HATE it when the neighbors want to talk when I walk out to get the mail, especially when it is cold, as in below 75. I'm a native Floridian living in OHIO. YUCK! I have to go to a conference for the day job in a couple of days, and I am so nervous about wearing a bra and real clothes. I work from home. Of course.
    It's nice to know there are other awkward mutes out there.

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    1. I kind of break out in a cold sweat when I think about putting an outfit together these days. And do I check and double check to make sure no one's outside when I run to get the mail in my pajamas? Possibly. Maybe. Yes. Every day.

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  4. I can totally relate. We live on a very social street--multiple block parties each year, outdoor movie nights, spontaneous cocktail/pizza parties on the weekends, etc. I love the social aspect WHEN I CHOOSE IT. I'm still adjusting to drop-in visitors (adults and children) and the new to have full conversations when all I want to do is run to the store for more wine. #suburbanproblems

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    1. Yes, I love being social when I've had enough time to mentally prepare. Unfortunately, I'm just not mentally prepared enough when I run out to get the mail in my ratty old sweatshirt.

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  5. Nice! I'd make a great shut-in too! Why go out when the Internet has everything??? -- Norine of Science of Parenthood

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    1. Shut-ins, unite! In our own homes of course.

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  6. Mmmmmmmm...Room service. I'm still stuck on the room service.

    I think virtually everything tastes better when it arrives under a silver plate cover in the hands of someone wearing white gloves.

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    1. And, yes, I, too, am a hermit like you, but we've already established that.

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    2. Seriously. There is something magical about being delivered food to your room. I ordered buffalo wings on my honeymoon night at the Sheraton, and those were the fanciest buffalo wings ever.

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  7. Oh, I love this. I have twins and a baby too, so I totally get it. I'm pretty good at the whole hermit thing. The other day the mailman came to the door because we had a package that he didn't want to squish into the mailbox. It was 10:30 a.m. and the baby and I answered the door together. The mailman said, "Oh, sorry to wake everyone up." I, like you, probably just did some word-vomiting, and was so confused as to why he though we'd been sleeping. And then it hit me: I was wearing flannel pjs and the baby was still in hers too. So now the mailman thinks I'm some lazy slob who never gets myself or my children dressed...oh, wait...

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  8. Oh... you used fortnight! I'm not a big neighbour greeter either. Thanks for hooking up to the hump day hook up

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