The Neighborhood
I'm pretty sure that Sleeping Beauty is encased in the house a few doors down. Remember the story? The vines grew and covered her castle while she slept under the spell? Well, soon the ivy will overtake that house. Seriously. Those green fingers have climbed up the wall of that house and are clinging to the front picture window. A tree obscures most of the house from view. The ivy is growing into the street. The bright green moss will soon thatch the roof entirely. Nature seems determined to reclaim this particular point of civilization. I wouldn't be surprised to wake up and find that a giant Venus fly-trap has eaten that house, leaving nothing but a gaping green hole.
I've seen the tattooed man who lives there. Once or twice, when the kids trick-or-treated at his door. He seems nice enough, but is his roommate Sleeping Beauty? Will the house soon disappear from sight altogether?
I was in my backyard this afternoon clipping my ivy. The former owners of this house thought it would be a lovely disguise for the chainlink fence and perhaps it was before it developed tree-trunk sized roots and overly enthusiastic vines. Now, it's a constant battle to keep the ivy from creeping into the flowerbeds. The ivy fence separates us from our backyard neighbors. Their house is two stories, so our bedroom looks directly into their bedroom. This explains how I once caught a glimpse of the middle-aged paunchy man of the house wearing only his underpants. I wish sometimes that I could unsee things.
So, today, as I'm clipping my ivy, I thought how I'd never really spoken to this neighbor. I could hear him tinkering with his grill in the backyard and I wondered if I should say hello to him through a gap in the ivy. Then I realized two weird things: 1) I haven't said hello to the couple ever, in the three years they've lived there; and 2) How wacky it is that I have seen this guy in his underpants but I have never said hello. I think if you've seen someone in their underpants and you don't know them, it's too late to say hello.
Then I giggled. I am so mature.
I've seen the tattooed man who lives there. Once or twice, when the kids trick-or-treated at his door. He seems nice enough, but is his roommate Sleeping Beauty? Will the house soon disappear from sight altogether?
I was in my backyard this afternoon clipping my ivy. The former owners of this house thought it would be a lovely disguise for the chainlink fence and perhaps it was before it developed tree-trunk sized roots and overly enthusiastic vines. Now, it's a constant battle to keep the ivy from creeping into the flowerbeds. The ivy fence separates us from our backyard neighbors. Their house is two stories, so our bedroom looks directly into their bedroom. This explains how I once caught a glimpse of the middle-aged paunchy man of the house wearing only his underpants. I wish sometimes that I could unsee things.
So, today, as I'm clipping my ivy, I thought how I'd never really spoken to this neighbor. I could hear him tinkering with his grill in the backyard and I wondered if I should say hello to him through a gap in the ivy. Then I realized two weird things: 1) I haven't said hello to the couple ever, in the three years they've lived there; and 2) How wacky it is that I have seen this guy in his underpants but I have never said hello. I think if you've seen someone in their underpants and you don't know them, it's too late to say hello.
Then I giggled. I am so mature.
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