by Corky Lyn

Created on: March 07, 2007   Last Updated: April 23, 2007

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

One incredibly hot and humid night in July, I was upstairs in my shabby-yet not nearly as chic bedroom, lying on the bed and singing "Mister Roboto" into my fan. I was just getting to the good dancing part when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked out the window and became transfixed by a horrible sight. My naked neighbor, who I will politely say is incredibly voluptuous, but in an extremely droopy way- was practicing what I think to be - Pilates. At least that's what I hope she was doing with her legs spread and ample posterior region jutting into the air, as it were...

Well, as you can imagine, I was horrified- yet I did not look away. In fact, I stood without blinking, long enough to scorch the image into a deep recess of my brain, thereby replacing all knowledge of complex algebraic equations I once could whip out (if prompted) on a cocktail napkin.

I kept thinking to myself any minute now this will get old and some moral code I'd learned in kindergarten, but subsequently forgotten, would force me to tear my eyes away from the grotesque sight. But this was not the case and instead I'll admit, I laughed. An evil little chuckle-with a few snorts for good measure. This was after all, the neighbor who crossed the street specifically to inform me I had two hairs growing out of the mole on my chin. She even pointed at them, and if it wasn't for my graceful and nimble ways she would have grabbed hold of them and pulled. But I dodged her and threw out an explanation over my shoulder on how I was experimenting with a new look.

So there I sat on that hot humid night watching my neighbor in various positions of "Downward Dirty Dog", swallowing the urge to holler to my husband to come share the view with me. Doing so would only induce yet another lecture on keeping the blinds shut at all times. A battle of wills that included my opening the blinds at every opportunity and strutting around without a care in the world. (I always operate under the pretense that if I can not see you , than you can not see me). But my paranoid hubby, on the other hand, would immediately shut them, filling any left over sliver of light with socks or- what have you- all the while shooting me dirty looks. Not a crack of moonlight permitted.

Although as I stood there watching the crack of moon my neighbor was exhibiting, I gave a great resigned sigh and shut the blinds.

The End.

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