There is a small apartment complex next door to our house. It used to house families, but now it houses a bunch of single guys. Since the semester ended and the weather has gotten nicer, they have all emerged from their apartments and began doing things outside. I am greatly amused to watch their antics. Also, I can’t help but think of them in my head as the “Neighbor Boys” even though they are probably as old (or older) as I am.
One day I saw a bunch of them gesticulating to the tree next door, and looking at the corner of their apartment building. That night, under cover of darkness, I heard them out again and it sounded like they were digging something or building something. No flashlights. It looked really sketchy. Like they were burying a body or something. The next day, I discovered they had planted a post in the ground. And later that day, they attached a slackline to tight-rope walk on. They’re out almost every day now, at some point, trying to get better at walking on it. So, no dead bodies, but it could well have been!
Then, this past Tuesday, I was pulling out my mower to mow our lawn, and one of the neighbor boys walks over and says, “I haven’t mowed a lawn in a while, let me mow your lawn.” I am no fool, so I said, “Ok, if you want.” He mowed my lawn, and when he finished he said, “I can do this on Tuesdays. Do you just keep your mower in that shed there? I’ll come back next Tuesday and mow again.” He instantly became my favorite neighbor ever. I gave him a glass of apple juice as payment for his kind gesture. (For the record, he knew that I was married before he offered to come back every week. I guess he likes mowing lawns.)
And on Wednesday, the neighbors in the back of our house–we live in a duplex, their number is 270–texted me and and asked if I knew why there were doors leaning against our house. I went outside with Kyle, and sure enough there were six or seven closet doors leaning against our house. Evidently they had been covering up the entrance to 270 the night before and our neighbors had to move them to get home. Kyle and I were talking about it, reasoning that it must be the neighbor boys, and, speak of the devil, one of them pokes his head out his open window and says, “Uh…yeah. My roommate did that. I told him it was a bad idea. They were wet, and you guys get sun on that side! I’ll tell him to move them.” We said thanks, unsure of the logic behind sticking a bunch of doors (?!) on your neighbor’s house, covering the entrance to somebody’s home. Gratefully, the next time I looked, the doors were lying against the neighbor’s apartment building. They remain there, even though it’s rained like every night this week. They’re not getting any dryer.
I wonder if I will get any more stories from these enigmatic neighbors.