I haven't talked about my neighbors in a while. There's a reason for that. I like them.
To refresh, that hasn't always been the case. I mean, I like the ones who are there, now. I just didn't like the ones who were here when I first moved in, J and his wife and son. I live in a duplex and neighborliness goes a long way around here. But the neighbors then were the ones who activated my Gladys Kravits Gland. Quite often. They didn't seem to realize that other people, meaning me, lived here as well and yelled at each other, slammed doors etc etc all hours of the night.
And they wore black all the time.
All the time.
Even the toddler.
But then one beautiful day three years ago, they moved. Then the perfect neighbor, Greg, moved in. Perfect? Yes. He was an over-the-road truck driver and was home about 2 nights a month.
But then he moved.
Dave, Linda and Ann are there now and I like them. Very pleasant, very courteous.
Then this curiosity happened tonight. I received an e-mail from Dave.
Hi. In case you are wondering what that smell is, it's not pot. Ann someone over who is getting rid of evil spirits in the house and she's burning sage.
My reply: Sage? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? I get rid of evil spirits by divorcing them. (rimshot) ( Jenni & Meghan, you didn't read that.)
We exchanged more silliness about evil spirits and burning herbs.
And then it hit me.
What exactly did happen to J and his wife and son?