Not long ago, I was walking at night (on my way home from voting, it was that long ago) through our great little neighborhood. There were lots of folks out - it was election day and ours is a walking type of community anyway.
I was completely spaced out (as is quite normal for me!) and walking across a street - in the middle of the crosswalk, in the middle of the street, and I passed a man who was walking the other direction.
I wasn't quite so spaced out that I didn't notice that he looked at me, did a double take, then stopped, thought a second, and turned around.
Ruh-roh.
This gentleman then says to me, "I know this might seem strange, but we're neighbors."
"Cool." I think. "Why doesn't he look familiar?"
Aloud, I say, "Do you live on the 3rd floor?" (That's local speak for "Surely I don't recognize you because I'm on the 4th floor and most of the people live down on 3.")
"No." he replies. "I live across the street."
Wait for it.
Yep. Across the street as in this guy lives ACROSS THE STREET AND RECOGNIZES ME FROM LOOKING ACROSS THE STREET TO MY APARTMENT! 'Friends' Naked Guy flashbacks anyone?
Later that night I told Talen this story (hoping that perhaps this would be the thing to keep her from wandering the apartment in her underwear) and she said, "Cool, mom. We have a stalker."
Yes. We have our very own, very yuppie, stalker. Don't worry, the blinds are closed so he won't know we're talking about him. He's very nice, you know. For a stalker.
