Sunday, May 29, 2011

Not Neighborly

I’m a neighbor. I live in a building with 28 apartments. I’m not neighborly.

Don’t get me wrong, if one of my neighbors were in need of help (of the 911 kind) I’d be there in a jiffy to lend a hand, but other than that I have no desire to mingle with the other 27 apartment dwellers in my building.

I only know the names of about four people in my building. The others I just smile when I see them and nod a courteous hello and hurry on my way before they get into a chatty “My name is... what’s yours?” mood.

There are people who love to get overly friendly with their neighbors, to hang out together, to plan their weekends together, to become best buds, to walk in uninvited and help themselves to each other’s food and drink, to watch movies together, to sleep together, and to do whatever else intrusive neighbors do. Maybe they think they’re on an episode of “Friends.”

That’s not me. Not at all.

I always thought Ross, Rachel, Monica, Joey, Chandler, and Phoebe were overbearing neighbors.

Last summer a few of the tenants in my building thought it’d be a swell idea to have a “building barbecue” in the courtyard. The organizers posted pretty computer generated invites on everyone’s door. “It’ll be fun!” “Bring something you’d like to grill!” “From 4 PM to...”

I conveniently scheduled a root canal at 4 PM that day.

And now that it’s Memorial Day, the official beginning of the barbecue season, I dread coming home and finding a cheery building barbecue invite on my door.

Maybe this year I’ll schedule a colonoscopy.

I can’t help it. I’m just not neighborly.

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