6/27/03
Well, there's news but it's nothing that you'd think was exciting. So, you might as well turn off the computer and go clean something. There's always something that needs cleaning.
Howie and Lynn are moving. They found a house out in the country. Howie has been telling me about his desire to make this move from the moment we had our first real, neighbor-to-neighbor conversation five years ago. He says he hates living in the "city". Too much traffic. Too much noise. Too many neighbors that do dumb things to their trees. I always wanted to argue the point that our homes were not in the "city" but the traffic and noise and dumb neighbor points were difficult to refute.
Dumb neighbors don't often stay dumb for long. Suburbanites are a fickle breed. Any neighbor that isn't taking part in a backyard conversation has the potential to be dumb. For example, I'll be standing in Howie's yard discussing how dumb the guy across the street is for mowing his lawn in the rain. When the guy across the street walks over to join in the conversation, he's suddenly shed his dumb status and is welcomed into the circle of the all-knowing. It's not that we're mean. Just a little bored.
We do help one another. Part of the reason I hate to see Howie go is the fact that he has mowed my lawn for me on more than one occasion. Come to think of it, a lot of people have had the honor of mowing my lawn for me. It's not like I've ever asked anyone to mow my lawn. For some strange reason people feel compelled to do it. Perhaps it is the allure of my self-propelled Toro (guaranteed to start after one or two pulls). Unfortunately my lawn is larger than it seems. I think people look at the yard and believe they can complete mowing it in a matter of minutes. An hour later they're wondering how and why they got themselves into the grounds maintenance business. I don't get a lot of repeat volunteer mowers. Howie's the exception.
As for me, I do my part. Last night, for example, I saw my neighbor with a truck load of new furniture. I'm not sure why I thought he needed help. Who would try to unload a heavy chest of drawers by themselves? Oh, I would... Anyway, I stuck my head out of my patio door and shouted, "You need some help?"
He did.
We moved a dresser and a chest of drawers upstairs to his daughter's bedroom. His wife and daughter watched us do the work. Because I began panting and became flushed fire engine red, I think they were concerned that I was going to have a coronary episode. I'm not sure how they could have been surprised considering their staircase was built at an angle that necessitated the help of a Sherpa to get to the upstairs bathroom. I'm not being critical, it's just a long staircase particularly when you're carrying furniture.