Perplexed

Dear Former Next Door Neighbor Across the Driveway Who Still Comes Around to Visit His Kids,

Actually, I know your name. I guess I could have just written that, but it seems like a good idea to try to maintain your privacy. I know the roughly five people who read this blog (Hi Mom!) can probably keep your identity under wraps, but after receiving emails from city commissioners and restaurant owners as a result of previous posts, I've learned you can never be too careful.

So, first we had the uncomf conversation about your previous apartment-in-house experience, when you revealed how you made the neighbors upstairs laugh with the sound of your loud farts traveling through the ceiling. We both walked off awkwardly after you shared that little tidbit at the end of the driveway. It was a real treat, and I kinda hoped I wouldn't see you for a while after that. Who knew it could get even better?

Well, it has!

Every time you are visiting the old place nowadays, I see you, AND I notice the Best of Journey blasting through the windows of your place. I'm making the connection. You = Journey. I didn't foresee listening to Faithfully 16 times in one day from inside my own apartment as a highlight of the summer, but life has a way of surprising us. Open Arms always brings a tear. Meditating to "Don't stop...Bee-lie-ee-ven!" is a new fave. I'm ambivalent about when the lights go down in the city. It's like it's the only CD you own, and I find it surprising. You don't seem like the type.

It's also really cool when I dart outside to chuck the garbage in the bin, and you appear to talk-shout at me over the music. I'm not quite sure how to respond when you gesture toward my garden and say, "You've got some really nice foliage going on there." It takes a lot of energy to holler back. Uh...THANKS!

Rock on, my friend.

-MMR