You might think that since I’m home most of the day I’ve gotten to know all of my neighbors and I’m baking them cookies every afternoon and having coffee with the housewife down the street and waving at little Susie every morning as she walks to school.

As much as I wish that were true, it’s not. Oh, I’m pleasant and I say hello to the neighbors, I even have a chat with the couple next door with some frequency, but for the most part I keep to myself. I keep to myself, but that’s not to say I don’t see what goes on.

Yes, I guess I’m a bit of a voyeur. I fancy myself a younger, more female Jimmy Stewart. But my Hitchcockian world doesn’t involve murder like Rear Window. I’m a bit more focused on whether or not Bob’s brother is going to sell his house now that he’s put Bob in a home (apparently he’s very happy there) and exactly how many single girls live in the duplex across the street (it seems dozens of them come and go daily) and why the people down the road never ever walk their dogs even though they could CLEARLY use the exercise.

To put it simply, I’m nosy. And though I don’t spend much time actually talking with any of our neighbors, I like to know what’s going on with them. I think it makes me feel safe. Secure in the knowledge that mostly they’re just regular people and they have their routines just like the rest of us.

I like knowing the rhythm of the neighborhood. The elementary school kids are usually walking to school right around 8:45. And the mailman hits my block around 11:30. The silver car across the street is washed, right down to the hubcaps, every Saturday morning. The woman at the end of the block smokes cigarettes and waters her plants in her bathrobe at pretty much all hours. The cupcake store is closed on Tuesdays. 🙁

It’s a nice little neighborhood, and I’m glad I get to be a part of it. That crazy blonde lady who walks her dog ten times a day and is always peeking in everyone’s windows.