I live in a crazy neighbourhood. I know this because I have had seemingly nothing to do for the past two years or so but to watch my neighbours. It's not a rough neighbourhood. Far from it. Almost everyone seems to be married with young children. Lots of stay-at-home mothers. But they are absolutely crazy. I have named them all, and I have a front row seat to watch all their antics.
I have a lot of laughs at my neighbours' expense. It is not unheard of for me to call Lisa and say, "I know it's dinner time and you're in the thick of things, but I gotta tell you what the Murdered Lady did!". And then we laugh and laugh.
Yesterday, Emilie (who is well aware of how amusing I find our neighbours) said that I was a bit "funny" myself. I know! I was shocked, too! I questioned her in great detail. I wanted concrete examples of my "funny" behaviour. Much to my horror, she provided me with them!
As Emilie rattled off a list of my (in her opinion) bizarre behaviour, I looked around my property. Perhaps she has a point. My backyard is better equipped than an amusement park. I painted my bench a rainbow of colours. The only thing stopping me from painting the garbage cans bright pink was Dan's refusal to haul pink cans to the end of the driveway every week. Everything I do seems to have a long, complicated story behind it. Like a comedic sketch. Like being in line behind a guy who is buying multiple items, but has no arms, nor does he have a way of transporting these items. Yup, that happened today. Or going 'round and 'round and 'round in a Round-About, not because I can't drive, but because Big Sarah is getting directions via the phone from Kevin, but becomes engrossed in some other conversation. Things like this happen...to me.
I have to disagree with Emilie. Crazy seems to have infected our neighbourhood, yet it has bypassed my home. To me, standing half dressed on your front step during the winter, and heaving your garbage to the curb, and having it bounce several times before it explodes, is "funny". Being nine months pregnant and deciding that you, personally, are going to build a fence, that's funny, too. Shovelling a path from your front door to the curb where you have a cab come to collect you, and then disappearing for six months is downright crazy! Littering your gardens with dwarfs is "fun". Painting your front door purple is simply adding a focal point. Watering your lawn in your pyjamas is ...my own damn business! Why can't my neighbours find something better to do than to watch and critique me!