I’ve been told by my landlord that I’m not allowed to talk to the neighbors to the west because they “have a long history with him” and “are trashy” and “no one in the neighborhood likes them.”
But let’s be frank (or Johnny, or Billy–yes, actually, let’s be Billy because the neighbor’s name is Billy. I know this because I talked to him) the fact that I’m NOT supposed to talk to them makes me want to talk to them even more. The few times that we’ve conversed they have been very cordial, asking how my day was and remembering my name. Being that our interactions are so pleasant I’m dying to know why I’m “not allowed” to talk to them. Sandy has caught me spying out the blinds on numerous occasions. But from my perspective I like them. They play catch in the alley, cut their bushes on a regular basis, always greet me, and sit around a fire and sing on nice nights.
I’ll do my best to keep you updated.