I don’t get out enough
embarrassing, suburbia October 3rd, 2007
So I just had a very embarrassing time of things at the grocery store. While waiting in line for postage stamps at the courtesy counter, a guy behind me says "I know you."
Uh-oh. I don’t know him.
He says "You live on my street, don’t you? Two doors down."
I’m not recognizing him in the least. I think I should know him if he lives only two doors away.
I give him my street name and he says "Yeah, we’re neighbors. You know Martha, two doors the other way."
Oh my God. He knows me and he knows who I talk to and who the hell is Martha? I try to get my bearings, but because I’m directionally-challenged and "two doors down" is not specific enough for me, I ask him "If I walk out my front door, which way is your house?"
"To your left." Nothing’s registering. "I’m the one whose red Jeep never leaves the driveway." That doesn’t help either.
"Which way is Martha?"
"She’s two doors to your right." Still nothing. I’m sure by now he can see light streaming straight through my ears, because clearly there’s no brain matter in there.
I’m so mortified and flustered by now and the cashier is trying to hand me my change and I don’t know who he is and he must think I’m a total moron. I try to salvage this go-nowhere conversation by at least asking his name, since it seems the neighborly thing to do.
He says "Andrew." We shake hands and he says in all seriousness, "Nice to meet you." How can I have been nice to meet? I’m a total clod. I wouldn’t know any of my neighbors if they sat on me.
I drive home and begin looking around for a red Jeep that never leaves the driveway, but realize he’s probably driving it home himself right now. God, just let me pull in the garage quick so I don’t have to see him again.
Still unsure who this guy is, I jump on my county’s tax records website and punch in my street name. Up comes all my neighbors’ house records and right there it is — an Andrew who lives two doors to the left. According to the records, he’s been living there 12 years. We’ve been in our house for ten. He’s been my neighbor for a decade and I didn’t know it.
I gotta get out more.
Stumble it!
October 3rd, 2007 at 10:30 pm
Sounds familiar… I swear I talk to people half way around the world more often than my own neighbors. I can see it in the dead of winter, but during the summer I rarely see them either… (unless it’s our ex-neighbors who finally – yay! moved away. More on that story on my blog).
October 3rd, 2007 at 10:47 pm
@ Maureen — I know the name of exactly one of my neighbors, and only because I looked up what he paid for his house in the tax records. How sad is that?
I suppose if I had kids, I’d get to know other moms on the block. But sadly, I drive home from work, straight into the garage, and then drive back out in the morning with maybe just a wave to some others who might be doing the same thing.
Not at all how I grew up. That was a twin home, where we were on top of each other. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, which is part of the reason I moved to the burbs.
October 4th, 2007 at 4:56 am
I wish I could say “tsk… tsk… tsk,” but sadly I am no better. The neighbor to my immediate left is “Owen.” Before him, the only neighbor I knew by name was “Crazy Flower Lady,” but I can’t remember if that was her real name or just the name I gave her in my head…
October 4th, 2007 at 6:51 am
well, I live in an apartment, and the other 3 apartment neighbours on the same floor (I’m not aware that there are humans on the other 27 floors, those are too far away for me) all scramble or look fixedly at one spot on the ceiling if we chance to meet, which is rare, mostly when we are waiting for the lift.
so, Kathy and Kev, your knowledge of your neighbours’ names … gives me the creeps! ;p
October 4th, 2007 at 9:45 am
@ Kev and Kitty — The only time I ever get out and meet anyone is when we’re shoveling the driveway. And that’s only because it’s slow-going and there’s time to talk. Yet, still, I don’t ever catch their names. So when the snow is all gone, we all go right back to not knowing anything more about each other.
I have never, ever talked to this Andrew guy. Or seen him, either. It really shocked me that his house is so close. I should have at least SEEN him once.
October 4th, 2007 at 11:02 am
Hm. That sounds like that episode on ‘Curb your Enthusiasum’ when Larry David saw this guy wo seemed to know him and wanted to have a ‘Stop and Chat’ but Larry didn’t….
October 4th, 2007 at 11:21 am
Our neighbors, immediately next door, have this freaky habit of wandering around the front rooms of their house, which face onto directly onto the street, in the nude. you can’t help but notice them! eew!
October 4th, 2007 at 11:57 am
@ Evol — sounds like you might want to poke your eyes out. What’s WITH people?
October 4th, 2007 at 8:05 pm
Canucklehead loves site
Knows few neighbours as well
Loves your site, take care.
October 4th, 2007 at 8:16 pm
Canucklehead!!! Welcome aboard!
Don’t you dare leave me haiku comments. I can’t keep up with it. J.D. seems to think I can, but I can’t.
This is a No Haiku Zone.
Subscribed to your feed
I much enjoy reading your
Canucklehead blog
Oops. Sorry. It just slipped out.
October 5th, 2007 at 3:57 pm
Whoops! I’m often pretending to know people I don’t… but that comes back to bite you, too, so I wouldn’t recommend it, either. Hey, thanks for coming by my blog – I love getting to find new blogs. OK. I’m off to try the bloody eyeballs, now. Don’t know why they made me have a craving, but they did.
October 5th, 2007 at 7:12 pm
@ MadMad — Thanks for dropping by. I’m not sure how I found your site. I’m sure you were in someone’s blog roll. I’ve subscribed to your feed and hope to catch up with your posts soon. Enjoy the eyeballs if you make them!
May 21st, 2008 at 6:32 pm
It was winter and I was walking with my new baby the day after a blizzard in the streets of Philadelphia.
I walked in the street thinking it would be easier.
I lived about 1/2 mile from my mom and was half way home, when I feel myself sliding.
Now I am carrying a baby that is only three months old (do not ask why I felt the need to walk the streets the day after a blizzard with a new baby).
Well, the snow is now ice in the tire tracks. I feel myself sliding. I cannot catch myself or I will drop the baby. I cannot fall forward or I will smash the baby. So I fall flat on my ass!
Now I am sitting in the road holding a new baby wondering who I am going to get up and on my feet.
I cannot set the baby down in the snow.
I carefully get to my knees, then one foot and one knee, my foot starts to slide. I am terrifed that I might be heading into a full split!
I hear, “Hey, I know you. I am your mothers neighbor.” I look at him and the face is not the least bit familiar. My mother has lived in her house for (I was 32 and we moved there when I was 15)… that is 17 years.
I grew up with six sisters and one brother, definitely a family that people remember.
He sees I have no idea who he is. He goes on to say (yes I am still in the one knee, one foot position) “Yes, I know…” He goes on to name most of my siblings. However, he does not know my name.
He then asks, “Can I help you?” I am thinking “No… you moron.”
He comes over to help me up, he starts to slide, luckily he stays on his feet. He reaches for the baby. I looked at him, did not say anything, just looked. I am thinking, he could easily take off with my baby and I would never catch him. Sure he knows the names of most of my family, he even said my moms address.
He understood my look of anger and fear. And decided to help me up while I was still clutching the baby.
He offered to walk me home. I told him no, smiled and said thank you. And I shuffled down the street, quickly.
May 23rd, 2008 at 6:32 pm
Estella — What an amazing (and scary) story! I shared it with my sister, who said “I would have done the same thing. Never give up the baby!” I don’t feel so bad now, knowing other people have my problem! Thanks for sharing your story!