Won't you be my neighbor?

Smokey Smokerson has a cousin. And she lives across the street.

When I lived in Russellville, my mom was mortified that I didn't know my neighbors. Oh sure, I'd wave as I passed them on the street. I'd speak at the mailbox. But it's not like I invited them over for parties or borrowed cups of sugar.

I'm a very social person. On the Strenghthsfinder test, I have "woo" as one of my top strengths. Give me a room of 50, and I'll meet 49 of 'em. I am a social butterfly. I have a lot of contacts, meet people easily, and generally have no trouble making small talk with total strangers.

My downfall is that I don't have many deep, meaningful relationships. Don't get me wrong, I have several close friends and am fiercely loyal to those I love. It's just that moving from an casual acquaintance to a person I'll confide in is a giant leap. Unless you read the Drivel, of course.

So maybe that's why I never make an effort to know my neighbors' names. Instead, I give them all nicknames based on experiences or personal characteristics. To the east of me is the Fuller Family, so named because they each share a very large characteristic... one that follows them around everywhere they go. Mr. Fuller evidently is something of a mechanic, as he has several vehicles in varying stages of repair that he likes to park in front of my house. The Fullers' garage is, much like their dinner plates, always full of junk, making it impossible to park a vehicle in there. Mrs. Fuller does, however, enjoy sitting just outside of the garage door in a plastic lawn chair, yelling at Baby Fuller, who always needs his mouth washed and diaper changed. My favorite thing about the Fuller family, without a doubt, is Mr. Fuller's propensity to work on cars in the middle of the night. There's nothing like a revving engine to increase the ol' heart rate. Lucky for you all, tonight was one of those nights. So now I'm wide awake to update the Drivel. If you see Mr. Fuller, buy him a cheeseburger and pray for his cardiovascular health.

Chick to the west is a young college coed, and evidently one of the more popular ones at that. A bevy of vehicles take turns parking in her driveway nightly. I especially appreciate the loud crotch rocket that often pulls in after midnight. Couple that with Mr. Fuller's engine revving, and you've got the perfect storm of noise. College Coed does have a respite of visitors on Monday and Thursday mornings, when her grandfather comes by early to take out her trash. He doesn't realize that most of the trash frequenting the premisis is of the human form. I speak to him politely two mornings a week as I take out my own trash after squashing my own bugs.

Smokey and the Bandit Green directly across the street have some unusual habits. I'm unaware if they have a home-based business or merely benefit from some sort of economic stimulus plan, but they always seem to be home. The Greens (I call them that because they're from OK according to their car tags) are also unable to park in their garage. I venture to guess you couldn't fit a Q-tip in there, and I wonder if Mrs. Green would be better off to light a match (or a cigarette) rather than sort through the colossal pile of garbage that she keeps stored. Mr. Green likes to mow but not trim, which adds a certain unfinished appeal to the neighborhood. Mrs. Green chain smokes while talking on her cell phone sitting in the driveway in her pajamas. And when I say sitting, I mean she literally sits on the concrete. No chair. A few months ago, back when I was still speaking to LB, he was at my house for four hours or so, and she was sitting in the driveway when he got here and still sitting there when he left.

Oh, and Jose one street over really wanted to off-road in his ca. 1989 S10, so he spray painted "4x4" on the side of his truck. I'm thinking of painting "Mercedes" on the back of my Toyota. Just because you say it, doesn't make it so.

I'm sure there are some normal people in my neighborhood, but they don't live near me. I'm so ready to move.

Ah, elusive sleep. I'm considering making a lot of noise when my alarm goes off in four hours.