You know that you live in a small town when you return a lawnmower, and the UPS guy who picks it up makes the comment about how the people just down the street returned that very same lawnmower. Do we have just one UPS driver for our entire town? It wouldn’t surprise me. It also doesn’t surprise me that both the neighbors and ourselves were silly enough to think that an electric lawnmower would work as well as a gas-powered one. When you live in the country, you can’t help but be fascinated by the latest inventions and newest technology. There really isn’t a whole lot else to do. So when that technology doesn’t work and you have to call the manufacturer to return it, you have to call the trusty UPS guy to pick it up for you. And that leads me to believe that this gentleman probably holds a wealth of information. The things he knows and sees around here! I’ll bet the older woman in the neighborhood return packages just so they can catch up on the latest gossip.
Welcome to small-town life. Everyone knows everything about everyone else. And if they don’t know anything, then they’ll make up a very good story to fill in whatever pieces to the puzzle they might be missing. It’s fascinating to hear a neighbor talk about how the people across the street are doctors and how they inherited the house from their elderly father who is now in a home. It’s fascinating because they never met these neighbors. So how in the world do they know all this? They just do.
Maybe they’re friends with the mailman? I’ll bet he knows a lot too.
As my husband and I are the new kids on the block, we currently have a blank slate. The neighbors are just in the beginning stages of introducing themselves and trying to sneak tidbits of pertinent information. Should that not work, they’ll let their imaginations fly.
When one of the neighbors dropped off a bundt cake, Nate and I were already in comfy sweatpants and t-shirts, despite the fact that it was early on a Sunday. I had assured Nate that no one would come over — as it was Valentine’s Day — and all I wanted to do was relax. So when the neighbors knocked and Nate answered, there we were in all our comfy glory, probably looking like a couple of bums. Hmmm, the stories that resulted from that episode. And now my husband wants to kill all the grass around the house so that he can start over, and all I can think about is what the neighbors will think when they see our entire lawn die. I mean, I don’t pretend to have a green thumb, but the things they’ll talk about when they think we can’t even keep a lawn alive. I think I’d rather deal with our lawn full of crabgrass and dandelions.
On the flip side, it is tempting to pretend that we’re someone important. You know, like royalty from another country or famous authors who are living in a small town for the experience. I’m sure there are plenty of countries in which the families don’t own couches but instead sit on nice rugs on the floor. See, the backdrop is already set!
But in the end, my husband and I have decided to just be us. Small town life may be quiet and full of exaggerated stories, but it’s our small town. It’s home! Besides, who knows what kind of novel really could come out of this. After all, Desperate Housewives seems to be doing pretty well…