We have new neighbors. But this is not a post about the new house.
I'm talking about the place we've called home for the past 4 years, and the place that remains home for the next 2 weeks.
4 MIT grads have moved in upstairs.
Let's hit pause on this intro.
Last night as Hurricane Danny blew into town it tore down a big branch on the tree outside the house and with it the power line.
Couldn't tell you what time it happened (the alarm clock went out), and I was enjoying a strangely deep sleep. But I did wake up at 7am when I heard the NStar truck backing down our cul-de-sac.
With no power for a shower or a coffee, there was no option but to throw on the sweats and walk down to Starbucks.
Let's go back to the new neighbor part of the story.
Stood on our front porch watching the NStar guys was one of the new grad student neighbors. A young attractive woman in (and I really couldn't tell) either a very flimsy summer dress, or perhaps expensive bedtime lingerie.
Also close by was our middle aged neighbor of 4 years. Our house directly faces his. They are probably 20ft apart.
Anne and I made our introductions to the new neighbor. You can add perky to the list of adjectives I used earlier.
And then our neighbor of 4 years introduced himself. To us.
4 fucking years we have lived here, during which time we have acknowledged each other every trash day, each time your kids hit the side of our house on their tree swing (which as I write makes me wonder if they contributed to the branch weakness!), and every time your bitch wife leaves a passive aggressive note on a windshield because someone (including us), parked at an angle that made it 1% more difficult for her to back her SUV out of the driveway.
Maybe he just wanted to seem like a nice guy to the perky young neighbor.