The Space Between

Happy Summer everyone!

Just wanted to relate to you that we live in a strange little complex. We've had nicknames for everyone, basically since the day we moved in.

There's "man-who-sits-in-jeep-talking-on-the-phone-all-day-long". Now mind you, his jeep's one of those without the windows, just clear plastic to protect the back seats and it's been very hot and humid here. I just don't know what he's up to.

Then there's "old-hippie-guy" who lives a few doors down, walks around with really long hair, and seems kinda stoned and once we saw him carrying one of those really long plastic cup things that they put beer in.

There's "the whore" and her sister. We don't know what she does for a living but there's always a new strange guy hanging outside of her apartment, and she's always running into strange cars. The dreaded sister chases us downstairs, literally. And I tremble in fear to hear her coming down. We don't even know if there's a parental figure or if the whore and her sister are really, "the whore and her child" (which would only make sense if the whore had her when she was 8.)

There's man downstairs who has a funky smelling house and likes to abuse his balcony rights. He sits on his balcony talking, and talking and talking (and sometimes arguing) at top volume on his phone, whilst leaving his balcony door open so that the smells from his house waft up and smack us in our nose. At the beginning we considered writing him a note, but then, luckily, the heat turned up, so that we have the a/c on and close the windows.

There's the newlyweds who must live somewhere else half the time. Before man-downstairs-who-has-a-funky-smelling-house-and-likes-to-abuse-his-balcony-rights moved in, his next door neighbor, who just happened to have the same name as moi, would hold nightly chats on her balcony to some unknown on the other line. She would discuss her upcoming marriage, the upcoming marriages of her friends, her honeymoon and life in general. We got to know them (her and her fiancee) pretty intimately. We've always just guessed at who they were since I've only ever seen the back of her head. She no longer talks on her phone on her balcony and I think they must live somewhere else half the time.

There's uber-tanned bleach blond older woman with bad smoker's voice and keeps a younger man. They have three dogs and they yell out their names as they walks them down the street. Not good when you've got a voice like that. We often speculate that maybe that's not her "boyfriend/husband" but rather her son...? I doubt it though, or else her son's quite affectionate. And he's much darker in complexion than she, even with a tan.

There's an assortment of peripheral people that we only know by this or that like
semi-mentally retarded guy who lives down the hall and runs if I happen to be going down the same walkway he's on. Don't know much about him, but it's disturbing to see this streak of a person dash past the columns and around bends. I never know if he's just waiting to ambush me, and there's "business woman" who all I know her from is the clip-clopping of her heels at 8:30 every morning, except weekends. There's countless people who don't know how to parallel park, right below us. Which makes for an amusing few minutes.


Not too bad. I've got a whole world outside my door.

How's your life?

Gotta run!

Me.