My daughter insists my next door neighbor Nick is a descendant of Napoleon Bonaparte for no other reason than because he’s short and bald. We discuss it periodically and it gives us both a hearty chuckle. I’m not even sure if the real Napoleon was bald, but my daughter says he was. I asked my husband Jack if he knew, but since he’s currently flirting with a bald spot himself, he wouldn’t weigh in. He doesn’t think my daughter and I are very funny.
Jack prefers to concentrate on Nick’s agricultural habits. Every April he pays a small fortune on his yard’s fixings, but just sort of throws all types of flowers and shrubs in the ground with no rhyme or reason and calls it a day. Then two weeks later, his place is overrun with weeds which he does nothing about the rest of the season. My husband will stare out the window for hours at a time, watching his handiwork and shaking his head, calling me periodically to, ‘come see what Nickodermus is doing now.’
Personally, my favorite part is when Nick finishes his annual Spring project. He calls his wife outside and the two of them stand there, wine glasses in hand, looking at his handiwork, bobbing their heads up and down. All that’s missing is a high five and some chest bumping.
As if that wasn’t enough, he recently finished his basement. As far as I’m concerned, it was really poor planning. There are only 16 feet separating our two houses and the one basement window my neighbor has faces the side of my house. I’m guessing he hasn’t realized yet that he has nosy neighbors because he hasn’t bothered to put up a curtain. I don’t know how many times I’ve walked around the side of my house and caught my husband who is ‘taking out the garbage,’ peering in their basement window staring lovingly at their 65” HD flat screen.
On those occasions when I take a peek in, I chuckle and point out what a great view we have of Napoleon’s bald spot. My husband, not happy with my observations, will only comment that our neighbor appears to be a Colts fan.
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