the ocean

I have been trapped in my home for the last twenty minutes due to my overwhelming desire to avoid making small talk with my neighbors.

You see, I had all sorts of extravagant plans in mind, from taking the dog out to picking up the misdirected mail someone left outside our door, but I simply cannot take the risk of becoming involved in the long-running discussion of the weather and everyone's health that is currently the hottest ticket in the townhouse complex courtyard. 

It's not that I dislike my neighbors. Well, let's put a pin in that, because I can't exactly say I love the lady who always seems to find a way to ask about something painful or embarrassing when I see her. ("And did I hear that your friend was killed by a drunk driver?") Or the lady who lets her dogs poop on our driveway and doesn't even apologize when caught. Or the lady who always leaves her blinds up, even when she's, like, having people over to dance around in her kitchen singing into spatulas to Motown like the cast of The Big Chill. Okay, these all may be the same lady, but the point is that I just don't want to talk to her if I can avoid it. Is that so wrong?

And yes, I do feel bad for the young people who have somehow been pulled into her orbit and are right now being quizzed on whether they've ever seen the landscapers looking suspicious lately, but they are young and will bounce back. Also they still have their Christmas wreath up in April, so screw them.

The good news is that I just got groceries yesterday, so I could probably sequester for a week or more if necessary. That's up to my neighbor's lung capacity and general stamina now.