Two years ago, Hubs and I decided to join the downsizing movement and sell our house. It wasn’t a big house, but it was pretty and sat on a large lawn, with seven huge fir trees on one side, creating a park-like section where we hosted a thousand bbqs, most summer family gatherings, and our son’s wedding.
But, like many homeowners, we ultimately concluded that the house owned us. Remodeling, repairing, updating, and preventative maintenance seemed never-ending. Then there was the yard.
Hubs had a reputation around the neighborhood for being extremely fastidious about his yard. Neighbors would walk by the house and point to a nonexistent clover in the yard, just to watch Hubs scream “WHERE??” Weeds, moles, and clover were simply not allowed. Flowers were planted symmetrically and bountifully, and the yard was mowed and edged twice a week. It was beautiful, but we were perennially exhausted and broke.
I know what you’re thinking. “Why didn’t you just relax and let things go a little?” Friends and family asked the same question. A lot.
We just can’t. We’re both undiagnosed OCD and have a need for things around us to be perfect, or as close as we can get them. We decided it would be less stressful to just move to a place that didn’t need that level of care and attention. So we sold the house and moved into a small rental. Hubs bought a fishing boat and I spend my weekends writing. Life is good.
Then Hubs came home last night and grinned, “Our old house is for sale. The neighbors want us back. Seems we were good for the property values.”
“Why are the owners selling it after only two years?” I asked.
He laughed, “Because the people who bought it figured out how much work it takes for it to look the way we had it. Seems they’re not stupid enough to spend their lives picking clover out of the yard with tweezers. And apparently we’re also entertaining.”
My mind did a quick replay of what the neighbors had witnessed over the years, and I wasn’t sure if we should buy back our house, move to another state, or write a book called “How to Entertain Your Neighbors” and give them out at the next block Christmas party.
One day I bought one of those stupid bras that claimed to be “five bras in one.” Halter, strapless, whatever. Obviously invented by a man whose fantasy woman is a double-jointed circus contortionist. I spent half an hour trying to figure out the straps, then another sweaty half-hour trying to get into it. I finally got so frustrated, I threw it out the window, and it sailed into the neighbor’s Arborvitae. I never retrieved it and he never mentioned it.
One spring, Hubs was replacing all the woodwork and needed a dumpster for the old wood. Fully aware that I can’t back up straight, he parked it directly behind my car. With a hard right, I miraculously managed to miss the dumpster. I didn’t, however, miss the neighbor’s prizewinning cat’s tail. Unsure about the etiquette for that particular situation, I offered to buy him a whole new cat (quickly discovering he has zero sense of humor. Good to know). It took months for him to feel the love again, and his cat still hisses at me whenever I walk by.
After admitting defeat on my ability to back up my car in a straight line, I decided to focus on hiding the flattened grass trails that instantly told Hubs “She was here.” Simple solution? A rake. Good idea, until Mr. McNosy Pants next door saw Hubs and called out, “I saw your wife drive over your yard, then get out of her car and rake the grass, then get back in her car and drive off. What was she doing??” When I came home, my rake was leaning up against the front door with a note that said, “Is there something you want to tell me?” I’d read an article about how to get rid of moles by redirecting them to burrow in another direction, like, say, to the neighbor’s house. Turns out it’s actually pretty simple. But I swear, that wasn’t me.
We were home one Friday night, restless and not in the mood for TV, when Hubs jumped up, opened the front door, blasted up some rock-and-roll tunes, and moved the furniture back for some living room dancing. We were enthusiastically busting our goofiest middle-age moves, when we looked out the window and saw our neighbors doing a mean swing dance in our driveway. They left laughing, shouting out “Thanks for the dance!” It was a rare moment of neighborly bonding, and the next Christmas, when Hubs put up his 12-foot lighted snowman on the roof, they didn’t say a word.
One day, Hubs was tackling a big lawn project while I was in the shower. He slid open the bedroom window and called out, “Come see what I’ve done!” “Uh, I’m in the shower. Can it wait?” “Oh, just grab a towel,” he said, “It will only take a second.” Hmm. So far the neighbors have seen me cave in the garage ceiling, chase my Chihuahua across the school yard in my bathrobe, repeatedly rear-end anything Hubs puts behind my car, and mow down three mailboxes trying to get the mail without getting out of my car. The one shred of dignity I had left is that they hadn’t seen me running across the yard in a towel, high-fiving Hubs for his gardening efforts. But Hubs was insistent. What the hell, dignity is overrated.
Most warmer nights, my little convertible is parked outside in the driveway. I got up one morning and it was gone. I raced down the hall to Hubs, “I think my car got stolen last night!” “No, it didn’t,” he yawned, “It rained last night, so I got up around 3 to pull it into the garage.” “You got up and got dressed just to put my car away?” “Nope,” he said, “It was raining so hard, I just ran out there naked and hopped in.” OMG. “Now the neighbors don’t think either of us ever wears clothes.” “Yeah,” he laughed, “but they’ll miss us when we’re gone.”
I think they actually do.
Oh, you are THOSE neighbors. I was driving my son to a debate tournament a few Saturdays ago, and a midlife man ran to the sidewalk nekkid in 34 degree weather to retrieve his paper. (And this was no residential street. He lived on a major artery running N-S in Wichita.) It was certainly something to talk about. Thanks for adding some spice to life!
Karen, it wasn’t intentional, but yes, we turned out to be “those neighbors.” It did make the neighborhood a bit more fun and gave people somebody to laugh at. When people ask why we sold our house, Hubs says, “Our work there was done.” :)
what a great post! I want you (and your hub) for my new next door neighbours (altho’ I would have lawn envy I’m sure!) Let me know if you’re planning on moving to Australia :)
Leanne, you’ll be the first to know! (And glad you liked the post!) :)
I think we can all relate to this. Oh, I had some evil neighbors once. I want you as mine now!
Thanks, Carol! Sometimes Hubs and I wonder if we shouldn’t get some property up in the country, with acreage. We keep forgetting our house has windows! :)
Oh my gosh, this is fantastic. I’m totally singing the Mr Rogers theme song in my head now… Won’t you be my neighbor?
Thanks, Emelie! And now I’ve got that song stuck in my head, probably all day long! :)
Gotta keep things interesting in the ‘hood!
Linda, it’s a small town. Our entertainment bar is really low! :)
Hahahaha! Won’t you be my neighbor?!?
Rena, I would, but you’d need an eye wash station on those nights when we forget we’re backlit in the dark! :)
Too funny. Neighbors can make or break a good feeling in the hood. No wonder your old neighbors want you back you were their entertainment and entertainers!
Thanks, Haralee! We’ve had some crazy neighbors too, and we find that we miss their antics. Sometimes you just have to be YOU, and let the chips fall where they may! :)
LOL!!!!!! Hysterical!! And to echo Rena, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” What a blast it would be to have neighbors like you!
Lynne, I didn’t realize how much entertainment we provided until we moved and they started telling us what they remembered. Ouch! :)
Vikki, we DO want you back! <3
Thank, Denise! You two were great block neighbors! :)
I have to admit, I’m not the neighborliest neighbor (I don’t think that is actually a word — but you get what I mean). However, I’ve lived by some incredible neighbors that were so friendly and funny that I wanted to move in and let them adopt me. It sounds like you might be one of those!
That’s why we live on top of a hill–so no one can see me run out on the deck, buck naked, with 2ft of snow, while I’m having a hot flash!
I think I would love to have you guys as neighbors. Sounds like a lot of fun!
Your hubby is a perfect partner for you. I totally burst out laughing at the end. Loved it Vikki.