Who Are the People in My Neighborhood?

My mom's been trying to help me settle in. . . she keeps asking me if I've met my neighbor (a twentysomething gal--saw her and said hi once, she responded with a hi and kept walking).

Mom accompanied me on a shopping expedition (who knew Target sells staplers but not staples?), and she planted a few flowers around my patio while I cleaned the car out in anticipation of taking it in Monday morning for repairs from the accident. There's little parking available in front of my building, so I had the car parked in front of the patio to carry a few things in the patio door. (Hate doing that for fear of trampling the lawn and tracking mud inside, but right now it's semi-Spring and everything's still dead.)

We brought all the car things inside and Mom put the gardening tools in the kitchen. I wanted to get on the road back to her house so I wasn't parked illegally for too long, and as we're getting in the car, my next door neighbor's patio door slides open and her boyfriend hangs out the door. He's talking on his cell phone--in his bathrobe. Hello!

I don't think Mom's going to ask what my neighbors are like anymore.


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