Our next door neighbours moved out yesterday, and I’m finding it hard not to take it personally. They say they just “wanted a change.” I’m convinced it was something I said, or did, or didn’t say, or didn’t do. I’m doomed now to live the rest of my life drowning in neruoses, all because I can’t figure out how I managed to drive out the neighbours.
The new family moved in last night, and as of yet we know nothing about them. It’s kind of a First Contact Situation here – we need to approach delicately, with enthusiasm, but not too much enthusiasm. We need to make them feel welcome, but not stalked. I’m not sure if we should bring over treats, or just go by to say hello, or wait to bump into them in the driveway. I don’t want to blow this one! We already scared away another family!
So while we deliberate on the best approach, we’ve been spying. The kids and I spent most of yesterday hanging out at the window in our office, which faces their house, trying to peek in their dining room window. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse into the back seat of their minivan to see if there are any boosters in there; we’ve been watching the snow carefully for footprints and/or pet prints.
At first Sir Monkeypants made fun of us, and then he got worried that we were going to blow the Contact Situation. But now we’ve totally swayed him to the dark side, and he’s being a Peeping Turtlehead too.
So where we used to gather before the TV after dinner, now we grab snacks, dim the lights, and head for the office window. Then we bond as a family over the odd glimpse of slippered feet going by (damn dining room curtains obscure the top half of the viewing area), while we chat about our day and imagine all kinds of crazy and exciting things about the new neighbours.
That’s not weird, or anything, right?