Ah, neighbors. We all have them, some living closer than others.
It’s the close ones who create the most to write about. Those far away can be ignored seen only annually at the county fair. That is, of course, unless your bull jumps the fence and decides to take up mating privileges with the next-door property owner’s prize heifer of an entirely different breed.
That’s when you bring a six pack and a batch of fried chicken along to the ‘kiss and make up’ party, along with an invitation to the ‘fix the fence’ celebration.
But the neighbors who live out your front door, well they can prove to be a bit ‘close’.
I don’t want to call them intrusive, that would mean they give a light knock on your door and march in with a yell saying, ‘it’s just me!’ Formality loses its place in neighborly society, especially when you aren’t prone to lock your doors.
A friend once told me it is better not to become best buddies with your neighbors because conflicts may arise. Not ever having thought about it, I dismissed the advice with a shrug. Bad plan on my part.
It’s when I lived in the upstairs apartment of a woman’s home and she daily inspected my cleaning habits while I was at work. On returning in the evening I would find notes about the type of mop I wasn’t using, the kind of detergent that worked better than what I had in my cupboard, and ending usually with a question like, “don’t you think it would be better for you to scrub the floor daily, rather than monthly?”
Good grief, she will probably demand I sweep weekly!
We had a neighbor once who felt it was her duty to let me know I was aging. At the time I was 34, and she pointed out that if I didn’t start using something on my face immediately by the time, I reached 35 I would look 70. It was about that time when she pulled out her AVON catalogue to help me select the beautifying lotion that would keep my face from wrinkling into the rotting prune on the third shelf of my refrig it was destined to become if swift action was not taken.
Don’t misunderstand, these were all well-meaning folks, and I am indebted to the neighbor who called me to let me know the house sitting 20 feet from mine was on fire and I might want to take action. At the time I was 638 miles away so all I could do is thank her and call another nearby friend to rush into my house and yank my doglets out before flames engulfed my structure.
Thankfully, they were safe, as was my house, but alas, the recently purchased abode next door didn’t survive.
The good news, it does give you an opportunity to meet those folks new to the street and offer cookies and milk, but not a key to your place. Cookies and milk replace a six pack and fried chicken within the confines of the city limits. FYI.
This is a two-for–I combined two prompts: Neighbors and Close. See samples of both at https://nansfarm.net/2019/08/28/neighbourly-love/