File Under: In the Neighborhood
I like my neighborhood. I like most of my neighbors. I like to think that I'm pretty neighborly, most of the time.
Saturday afternoon, I was driving home from the gym. I had a couple hours to kill before I had to be at a birthday party, so I decided I would stroll to Starbucks, get a cool drink and relax. A couple blocks from home, I glanced down a street and there was, what appeared to be an attractive guy doing yard work on one of the newer homes. I decided to have a closer look, to see if this was the new owner or just the help. I parked my car at home and decided to walk over there. I was going on a walk anyway. I was wearing a pair of leather flip flops. I haven't worn them since last year, figured I would break them out since it was sunny and 82 degrees. I got about a block from home and realized why I don't wear them, they hurt my feet. They rub in different spots on the top of my feet. But, I was on a mission so I soldiered on.
I got to the street, and he was still there. I envisioned him being relieved to find a friendly neighbor, he would invite me in, I'd tell him that my shoes were bothering me and he would bring me adhesive bandages and a cool drink. Okay, no...not so much. He turned his leaf blower (which he was using to blow tree branches from his sidewalk, in an effort to clean up from the severe storms we had 24-hours prior) away so that he wouldn't blow debris on me, I said "Hi" and "thanks." He barely grunted and went about his business. Oh well, he wasn't very attractive anyway. Onward I limped. I took my shoe off to see what was happening to my foot and it wasn't pretty. I managed to hobble home, but at that point the damage was done, my foot was a mess and I was a sweaty pig. I cleaned up my foot, bandaged it, put on different shoes and went to Starbucks.
So much for getting to know the neighbors.