What the...
As you know, The Neighbor and I are very close. We walk in and out of each other's houses without knocking. We call to each other over the fence. We have a repetoire of signs by which we communicate:
Her car pulling into the drive of a week day evening means it's Cocktail Hour.
When we were working out in the mornings she turned on her living room light and I my kitchen light to signal that we were up and ready to go.
When her family room curtains are opened of a Saturday morning, it betokens "come on over for coffee". That one's going to need some tweaking now:
Her car pulling into the drive of a week day evening means it's Cocktail Hour.
When we were working out in the mornings she turned on her living room light and I my kitchen light to signal that we were up and ready to go.
When her family room curtains are opened of a Saturday morning, it betokens "come on over for coffee". That one's going to need some tweaking now:
Labels: The Neighbor
cobbled together by Moi at 9:47 AM
11 Comments:
I think that means, "Bring your own hammer."
Lol, As cold as it is down here I'm sure it's cold up there.
LOL, LA. I think that's exactly what it means.
Grish: After 3 days of freezing temps it's actually raining today. Which is hugely ironic.
Word of the day award for "betokens." We're running out of plaques over here, so future awards will be in the form of a ribbon.
I thought you'd like that word.
I'm sad. I am the worst neighbor--just ask the rest of them. I never get asked over for coffee-- I get asked to revmove the pepsi can from their yard, even thougth I don't drink pepsi. You're lucky, even if you need an new system.
Very lucky, indeed, City Mouse. But don't be sad. You can have coffee with us. Just bring your own umbrella.
Yeah, there pretty much isn't a window there anymore, not to mention curtains. At least I now have heat, having whined to both the contractor and architect at yesterday's weekly meeting. But hot water will be history starting next week for an indefinite amount of time. Did I mention the Ski Bums + Girlfriend will be visiting for at least another week? Bugsy thinks he has died and been sent to some hideous doggie Purgatory, without access to his regular backyard poop route or a consistent place to sleep.
And the rains begin.....
Ski Bums, mothers and girlfriends of said Ski Bums are all welcome to our hot water.
I've got your back, baby.
Lucky, Lorraine. Neighbors relations aren't usually that good with the rest of us. I'm envious.
Thanks for the link, by the way. I am very pleased you have added me but the pressure to perform, oh, the pressure! (kidding)
Love ya!
Ah, a little pressure is a good thing for a writer such as yourself. Love you too.
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