Neighborly.

This past weekend, our neighbors had a yard sale.

I know this because at 8:00 in the morning on Saturday, I found Chris standing at the dining room window, staring into our neighbor’s front yard.

I hate when he does this.   Stalking the neighbors is awkward for all involved.

Chris stood there for a little while, reporting every item they brought out of their house.

“There’s a dollhouse.”

“Oh!   Golf clubs!”

“There’s a play crib.”

“Wow!   Another set of golf clubs!”

After a couple hours, Chris declared that we should go over and say hello to them.   I grumbled a little bit.   I mean, the neighbors are really nice people, but I was in the middle of an emergency.   SOMEONE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS poo’d in his bathtub.   I had issues.   The neighbors would have to wait.

So, a couple more hours go by and Chris announces once again that we should go over there and say hello.   At this point, I had the poo emergency under control so I agreed.   But when I went to pick up Beanie, Chris kind of stopped me.   He didn’t say anything.   Just looked me up and down.

I admit, I was a sight to behold in my maternity yoga pants with the hole in the knee and my high school Peer Counseling t-shirt.   My hair was in a wimpy ponytail that had kind of fallen over to one side of my head and I had on no make up.

“Maybe you should change,” he said.

“Change?   We’re just going next door!”

“Yeah, but we should make a better impression than…that,” he said, pointing to the hole in my pants.

“Fine,” I growled between clenched teeth.

So, I change clothes.   I redo my ponytail.   I put on some mascara.   I wipe the Bean’s slobbery chin.   Now let’s go say hello to the damn neighbors.

We trudge across our front yard – Beanie on my hip, Chris following behind.   And when we get to their front yard, we exchange hello’s, how are you’s, your baby is so cute’s.   Like neighbors do.

And then there’s not that much left to say because, even though we live next door, we don’t really know these people.   As I stand their awkwardly telling them a story about how I was so bad at haggling at my yard sale that I sold a television for $3.00, I start to think to myself, “Why did Chris make us come all the way over here?   What else is there to say to these strangers?   How long do I have to keep standing here?   And where the hell is Chris???”

Chris had wandered off and started messing around in their yard sale stuff.   He played with the golf clubs, he poked at a board game, he sat in a lawn chair.   He basically did whatever he could to get out of the conversation.   So there I stand, by myself, with a baby on my hip in my neighbor’s front yard trying to find something to talk about.

After a few minutes, I politely excused us so that the neighbors could deal with their yard sale traffic.   As Chris and I walked back into our yard, he smiled and said, “See?   Wasn’t that nice?”

He drives me flipping crazy.

He does this to me all the time.   When it comes to socializing, Chris is The Man.   He loves to have people over, meet new people, mingle with old friends.   But he doesn’t actually DO ANYTHING.   He just makes the plan and then sits back while I work it out.   And just about the point where I start to get frustrated with the situation, he will sit back all satisfied-like and announce, “Well, that was great!”

Yeah, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself while I made cheesy small-talk with a complete stranger.

I swear, that man is lucky he makes such cute babies cause sometimes that’s the only thing that spares his life.

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