At first, it wasn't any big deal. We had a lovely family from Germany who enjoyed hanging their clothing outside to dry. Very European. They were followed by a delightful older couple from Ohio who shared their delicious chocolate-covered peanut-butter Buckeye confections with us on occasion. It was all warm and friendly for several years. Little did we know we were experiencing the calm before the storm.
We had some not-so-nice neighbors move in after that; my hubby and I breathed resounding sighs of relief when they finally moved out.
The house next door stood vacant for a time, but the next house over got their first renter. This home's backyard also butts up against ours and features a beautiful inground swimming pool. We discovered our new neighbor was to be a single, 26-year-old model.
I arched a brow at my hubs and made the "I'm watching you" finger sign in response to his goofily grinning face.
Now, let me preface what I'm about to say by explaining that I'm not normally a nosy neighbor. Truly! But come on! A model? Really? I was curious to know how a single, 26-year-old model could afford the rent on a fairly decent-sized home in the suburbs. I figured she had to be pretty phenomenal.
Our kitchen window just happens to overlook my neighbor's backyard and pool. So naturally, while working in the kitchen one afternoon, I couldn't help but notice the model wearing a little hot-pink number and prancing around the edge of the pool as she gabbed animatedly on her cell phone.
I squinted through the glass, but couldn't really get a good look. I required some additional magnification. Dragging out my hubby's binoculars, I tried zooming in on her. But everything was just a big blur. As I fiddled with the dials, my son (13-yrs. old at the time) happened to enter the kitchen.
"Watcha doing, mom?"
"Can you help me focus these binoculars?" I asked handing them to him.
He took them and aimed out the window, expertly turning the focusing dial. "It's not hard mom, you just have to—" At that instant, the model looked directly at him, then flailed her arms in an exaggerated "What the heck!" motion.
My son's face turned beet red and his eyes bugged out. He threw the binoculars at me like they'd burned him. "Mooooom! What are you thinking? I'm a 13-year-old boy! Great! This is just great," he grumbled as he stomped from the room.
"Thanks," I said feeling a tad bit guilty. For about a second. Then I stepped back into the shadows and whipped the lenses up for a better look.
Hmm…maybe she's a hand model, I thought.
Meanwhile there was some new action going on next door...
(Stay tuned for next week's episode of Welcome to Suburbia: As the Neighbors Turn)
Image by: Heather Elias
