Monday, January 9, 2012

This Street Is As Dark As My Grandmother's Soul

I'm not sure why my neighborhood doesn't have street lights.  It is very creepy and encourages me to have serial killer/slasher movie/conspiracy theory type thoughts. Maybe there aren't any lights because no one has any need to go outside and meet each other or have neighborhood barbecues or any of that awesome neighbor stuff I imagine in the 50's housewife part of my brain. We've lived here almost a whole year and I don't know any of my neighbors.  I can see in your window and I don't know your name.  That feels like something that a stalker should be saying.  Or something that I can cross-stitch onto a pillow *upcoming invalid activity alert*!

Speaking of recluse individuals, when we first moved in I remember Husbandman telling me I was crazy because I was pretty sure 100% positive the old guy next door had rear-windowed his wife.  I mean, I had never ever seen her even though he kept talking about her AND he has weird patches of small garden plots spread randomly all around the backyard instead of just one big garden plot. What was I supposed to imagine?  Plus I just thought it would've been cool if I could have discovered an awesome murder and solved the crime and stuff...Turns out he didn't rear-window her (someday I'll discover and solve an elaborate crime that's been committed and no one will believe me just like they didn't believe Jimmy Stewart so I'll have to break into the dude's house and sleuth around and all that good stuff).  She is just one of those recluse ladies who looks exactly like Paula Deen.  Also her name is Paula.  No joke.

And he turned out to be a really awesome crotchety grumpy old man with a heart of gold, like an old man from a Disney film.  Still with all there awesomeness I just barely confirmed her name this week.  I've seen her a total of exactly two times this whole year (she has curtains).

I'm suddenly realizing I need to get out of the house more.
Actually no I don't.  I just need a telephoto lens.