So I’ve got some new neighbors. That happens occasionally. This time around we had a few vacancies and they were taken by several frosh college kids. Fine with me.
I think.
It’s been many years now that I’ve lived in this duplex, where I occupy the second floor. We’re separated from The Big House (converted to five apartments) by a courtyard and a two-car garage. The roof of that garage is adjacent to my bedroom.
Well, I haven’t really met any of my new neighbors yet; this is unusual, as I’ve typically made the acquaintance of new ones rather quickly. But these brand-spankin’ new adults seem to still be operating under the “don’t talk to strangers” rule.
Fine. They’re probably better off that way. But early indications have been that life around here might not be as sedate as it’s been in previous years. Large groups congregate to talk in the driveway. While they seem strangely reticent to actually engage me, they’ll trip over themselves to get out of my way.
So last Wednesday night came the first had-to-do-it confrontation. Finally, at 12:30, I went out to tell the ~30 who were on the roof of the garage (~6’ from my bed) that it was time to cool it.
Wow! There is an upside to havin’ a bit of grey hair. It was like watching a high school fire drill. They immediately shut it down and filed out. Polite; I think they had just not thought about whom they might be intruding upon.
It gives then that my initial impression is that they’re kids, but good kids. While I’ve not yet met my downstairs neighbor, I’ve met her mom. Engaging woman, and very high on her daughter and her friends. Tells me they are great kids.
Then this weekend I have occasion to talk to the woman who is part-owner and on-site resident; she tells me that, yes, it is a shift, but these are good kids. And I already think that.
So what is a garbage bag full of freshly-filled water balloons doing in the courtyard?
