Neighbors

I live in a cul-de-sac in a ridiculously typical suburb. It is a little snapshot of suburban life.

House 1: Anal Lawn Guy. Every street has one. He is the first one to mulch, to mow, to rake, to shovel. He makes the rest of us feel guilty look bad look bad and feel guilty. He and his wife have a grown son. The son, daughter-in-law and grandson lived with them for a few months recently while their house was being remodeled.

House 2: Middle aged quiet couple. We run into them once in a while at the video store or dry cleaners.

House 3: Newly divorced dad with occasional visits from three school-aged children. House was previously owned by mother of the man from House 2. She was quite elderly and passed away a few years ago.

House 4: Young couple with one six year old daughter. When our kids were a few months old, and their daughter was three, they babysat for us for two hours while we went on a tour at a local super-cool science facility. When we got back, the woman said "We are trying to have another baby. I think [husband] wants a boy." We walked in to their family room to find the husband with Dalton on his lap watching football. This couple has frequent parties. They are much younger than us. And much more popular.

House 5: Middle aged couple with two twenty-something aged children. The children sometimes live with the parents, and sometimes they don't, but the children (and their friends) are almost always at the parents' house. In a cruel cul-de-sac paradox, they have the shortest driveway, but the most cars.

House 6: A couple about our age with one child. They were almost as anal as Anal Lawn Guy, then they had a kid. Our children play together often. There son is quite large for his age, leading some people to be expect four year old behavior from his two year old brain. On more than one occasion people have said mean things to them about their child or their parenting. Our immediate outrage at this has brought us all closer together. The woman calls the city to complain about stuff they haven't done on our street: plowing, leaf pickup, potholes, that sort of thing. This is where having a somewhat anal neighbor pays off.

House 8: A woman with two teenagers, the younger of which we consider to be the source of the beer bottles in our back yard. The woman's new husband talks to Dr. H. He does not talk to me. I don't know why, except that perhaps he has figured out that I suspect he is a bit of a fictional storyteller. He has yet to tell Dr. H. he was once in the special forces, but I'm sure it is only a matter of time. The daughter was a great catsitter for awhile, giving our diabetic cat shots and doling out other feline medications as scheduled. She called us one summer when we were two states away to tell us that she had reconsidered and she couldn't watch our cats. Her explanation? She just "couldn't deal". We suspect pregnancy. Our friends from House 6 now watch our cats.

House 7: Us. Often overgrown with weeds, with the occasional burst of looking well cared for. When we first moved in, we painted the outside of our house, changing it from ugly to unremarkable, giving us some leeway with the neighbors. My recent major major accomplishment? After our recent snow, I shoveled our driveway in time to have the second cleared driveway in our cul-de-sac - right after Anal Lawn Guy of course. My classes have not started yet.