I used to have a very odd theory that being friends with neighbors would suck. They would pop-in, watch your every move, etc. So new neighbors moved in and they had parties. Paul would go and claim I was sick. I later found out they really thought something was wrong with me because they never saw me (I travel a lot for work). Little did they know that while Paul was being social, I was laying on the couch catching up on General Hospital. (Don't judge me, my job requires me to meet, talk to and be with people a lot, I just needed a break when I got home.)
This theory went out the window when Paul bought a new set of pots. The pots we had been using were my very first set that Grammie and Grandaddy gave me when I moved to New York and my first solo apartment. I cried as I packed the pots up (Grammie died 5 years ago and I still miss her everyday) and told Paul to make sure Goodwill got the pots. They were still in great shape and he promised. The next day I went out of town to return 2 days later.
As I walked up my driveway upon my return, my next door neighbor Amy yelled from her balcony "Thanks for the pots. I hope you don't mind I took them!" As we started to chat, I learned my loving husband had put my special pots out for the garbage pick-up (yes, he lied and I caught him. I win!) Amy was in need of pots (you'll have to ask her why), so when she saw my nice set outside in a box, she thought it was karma. I believe it was Grammie's way of introducing us.
From that day on, we weren't just next door neighbors anymore but also great friends. I even became the dreaded nosy neighbor who would report the comings and goings from friend's houses. We laugh, we cry, we shop, we go to shows and generally just have a great time. I am so lucky Paul put those pots out for the trash (I win again!)
One more thing, if it weren't for Amy, I would never have welcomed the lovely navy grosgrain and silk peep-toed, pink heeled, pink and white rosette Giuseppe Zanotti's pictured above into my life! How is that for a happy ending?