Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Neighbor

So our next door neighbor has us wondering if he's smoking pot or something. He's a separated husband (assuming), no children, firefighter. When we are outside sometimes we will his stereo blasting Vanessa Williams' "The Sweetest Days" and LInda Ronstadt and James Ingram's "Somewhere Out There". Tell me, what kind of guy listens to this kind of music? And since he is a firefighter, he usually works 72 hours and then has a few days off or something like that, so when he is home, he vacuums every single day. Now, our neighbor across the street told me that he has a drug problem and was hauled off to the station one time a month ago. I didn't realize she would be such a gossip. Okay with me. Anyway, and his wife who owns the coffee shop we pass by every time we go to the store, her car hasn't been in the driveway for a couple of months now and her dog hasn't been out in the yard either.

As Matt and I sit in our Adirondack chairs on our back patio at night, we whisper that he's a gay, pot smoker who is wanted by someone, which is why he always talks on his cell phone in the front driveway.

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