with the rumble of the moving truck, my neighbors from across the breezeway were gone.

and i didn't help them move, either. whoop de do.

i didn't even open the damn door--the voyeur in me was satisfied with the peephole view. fact is, i don't even remember their names, even though they lived 6 feet away from me for the 20 months that i've been here. the only reason i would have opened the door while they were moving out would have been to see the inside of their apartment, which is an exact mirror image of mine and for some reason i wanted to see what the exact same thing, in reverse, would look like. other than that, what the hell did i care?

not to say i didn't want to know them--hell, i tried. but they were just weird. (by "they" i mean this old husband and wife who are both foreign language professors at one of the local universities.) for every encounter in the stairwell or parking lot, my cheery hellos got either a meager, curt "hi" or simply nothing at all. for a long time i wondered if they didn't like me because i was a young whippersnapper who was gonna upset their quiet 3rd floor, but that didn't make any sense because they work with whippersnappers like me every day at their jobs, so they must like 20-somethings. eventually i just said to hell with it and accepted the fact that i would never have them over for dinner, or never be invited over for shits and giggles and coffee and shnackies, or never water their plants while they were on vacation (nor would they feed my fish), or never have the wife translate english to italian for me (for my hot italian penpal), or even learn their frikkin' names, other than the last name on the mailbox and what the guy downstairs told me (and he told me everything i knew about them.)

but i don't think i was, or will be, missing much.

for instance, i won't miss seeing their f*cking cars parked right by the apartment door for THREE MONTHS while they go back to the "old country" for the summer. wouldn't it be considerate to park your cars off to the side and let the poor assholes who are STILL HERE EVERY DAY park in those spots? while their cars were sinking into the asphalt, covered with an inch of dirt, leaves, bird shit, and tree limbs and sitting on dry rotting, flat-ass tires, i had to park in the dark, scuzzy corner of the lot and walk by their cars several times a day. and on the rare occasion that i got a spot next to theirs, do you think i cared if i accidentally bonked my rusted pickup truck door into the door of thier little hondas? HELL NO.

and i won't miss seeing her hooting like a ghost and waving her dirty socks and grandma panties at me as i walk into the laundry room because she wanted me to know she was in there "so i wasn't frightened." wtf??? (yes, that did happen. it was then that i withdrew contact and cut off all diplomatic relations.)

--weirdos. goodbye, good riddence.

it's all too common not to know your neighbors while living in the city. i've always been surprised at how quiet this complex is and how unusual it is to run into people outdoors. when i moved in, i was hoping there would eventually be some kind of apartment complex BBQ or mixer party or something, but there never has been. i could suggest it, but it probably wouldn't be popular. besides, who am i to be the one to break the silence? heaven forbid someone do something to create a sense of community around here.

*sigh*

hopefully some sorority girls will move in next. they can wave thier socks and panties at me all they want.