Ten years ago this month, when I bought this house, our wise (i.e. know-it-all) friend, Pat. P., said to me, a quiet street is great, but you’ll never have any privacy.
One person who has not received any air-time on this blog, and deserves to be a regular character, is my nosy neighbour, heretofore known as Mrs. Nosy.
I like Mrs. Nosy, I even leave her my keys when I am away so she can check the house and visit the cats. Everyone trusts her with their keys. She is home alone all day, and is lonely, and is a one-woman neighbourhood watch. She sees everything, and talks about everything to everybody. And always in a judgemental tone, although the reality is she knows nobody gives a shit about her judgement.
She also can be depended upon for the casual, off-the-cuff racial slur. Fun!
So this a.m. I am outside, and I’m telling her how much I am enjoying the car-sharing program I have joined. She asked: “oh, is that the grey car I saw in front of your house”. The grey car. Kumar’s grey car. I can tell she is very, very curious about the grey car.
I said no, I rented a blue car twice and once a red car. But I ignore her on the grey car. Hee hee. This is kinda fun.
She first mentioned the grey car just days after Kumar first came over. I ignored her that time too.
Last week, when he was leaving, I mentioned the neighbours to him, and he looked at me and said, in his wry, inimitable fashion: “Your neighbours know exactly what I’m doing here. Especially the nosy one.” Heh.
Wait until Mrs. Nosy notes that the grey car has changed to Ontario plates! I predict she won’t be able to contain herself. This is what I get for living on a street where nothin’ ever happens.
4 comments:
I love your steet!
Aw, my street is like that now. Except it's the house I originally grew up in so my neighbors and I all know each other from waaay back.
I have a Mrs Nosy whose husband is still alive. She uses one of those power scooter things to get around. Loved having her zip across the street to tell me I had a visitor with a dark tan....then her husband will carry a message from her later when he walks the dog, like I'd of forgotten it in one day.
My Mrs. Nosy's husband is also still alive, but they don't speak, or barely. I've never seen them speak to each other in the 10 years I have lived here. That story needs a post of its own. Such a weird marriage.
Wow that is weird. Probably the secret to their still being married.
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