My Neighbor

Day 2 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

My Neighbor

I don’t know who my neighbor is…this clunky hard stomping man whom I’ve only heard when he passes by my doorway to or from his own. I can’t ever catch him. As often as I come and go myself or do laundry in the communal washer/dryer I haven’t cast eye’s on this guy at all. I only know he’s a man, aside from his very heavy steps outside my door, from my other neighbors whom have all had a bit to say about him…and his cats. He is a man with cat’s. Noted. The man who lives below him talks of his stomping in ways that I don’t have to bare at all. Apparently for him this guy is like the famous youtube video,Everyone’s Upstairs Neighbors. Really everyone is surprised that he is so quiet to me and that I have yet to even sight him much less know who he is. They tried telling me a few things about him. Like cat poop flying out the window …past the downstairs neighbors window. He had a “Oh, nuh uh.” moment at that one.

However I like my idea’s and imagination…sometimes at least.

At first I imagined that, hey…it might be a cute, bookish, manly as hell with a slight nerd side and most definitely smart…handsome sexy broad shouldered bearded kind of fella. Hey… A Kind Of Single Girl can hope.

But then I began to imagine he was a big sweaty overweight guy who drinks himself to stupor…who comes home, blinds drawn , watching the tv, kicking off his big heavy work boots and sitting in a recliner, wearing a white tank top , red and white beer can in hand.

Then I thought …what if he is the recent serial killer on the loose? A man who goes after ladies and leaves their bodies in abandoned houses on the island. Taking his issues with his mother out in his aggression toward woman who turn him down by day?

I chose not to ask to borrow that cup of sugar when this pounced in my mind and turned away from his door without knocking.

I now know he has cats…and my imagination about a guy with just…cats races from one odd possibility of who my neighbor is to another.

He is a construction worker….a yarn toy making Etsy seller….a youtuber who has social anxiety…a nerdy game player…an exotic dancer…a fellow restaurant worker….most definitely not a suit and tie guy…those footsteps tell me he’s not that.

Once when I couldn’t sleep I imagined up all kinds of things about how he spent his day and what he did over there on the other side of the wall that separated our homes.

He has a fridge full of body parts…a woman tied up in the closet. Maybe he dresses drag and goes to a show on weekends and can teach me some makeup tips…or share shoes. He plays way too much video games. He has an awesome movie collection. He is , in my mind, an amazing (and sexy) cook…whipping up portobello mushrooms and sipping red wine while reading the book of the week. He spends a lot of time polishing guns. He talks to his mom for about three hours a day. Maybe he sleeps all day….up all night …doing…what? I wondered.

Would my neighbor ever be someone I play a game of chess with or hold a good debate? Talk about the latest book we’ve both read or have a sip of coffee?

Hell….will I ever see my neighbor? Is he a disfigured Elephant Man with a life log story waiting to be written?
Would he one day inspire a book?

The possibilities are pretty endless and until I do see and or meet my neighbor I suppose my imagination will just continue to run wild with them.

I wonder what he might be over there thinking up about me?

UPDATE: I have seen my neighbor…shirtless…doing his laundry….I got tongue-tied and just….waved and walked away.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s