Tuesday, November 2, 2010
I wouldn’t classify myself as a nosy person. When talking to my friends I wait for them to tell me things -- I don't prod for details unless it's something huge. I keep to myself and rarely interact with my neighbors. Maybe it's because sometimes I wonder if anybody around here is stashing hookers in their crawl spaces, because places that appear to be perfect rarely are, but I digress.
Anyway, now that we’ve established how not nosy I am, let’s talk about tonight. I was sorting this crazy mountain of laundry that had accumulated in the upstairs foyer over the last two weeks and came across some clothes that Munchkin had grown out of. I went to place said clothes into the “Charity or Care Package?” basket in our future library/office, which is a total train wreck of a room right now, and noticed an ass-ton of coloured lights streaming in through the currently bare windows. (No window treatments yet...) So, I walk over to the basket as planned but can’t help but notice two EMS trucks directly across the street from my house. I left the room and stupidly asked my husband, who was cooking dinner at the time, if he knew that the trucks were there. Of course he didn’t know – he was in the goddamn kitchen!
Back to the sorting I went, taking clothes from room to room, closet to closet. Folding pants, matching socks, throwing away fabric softener sheets… and then I HAD to see what was going on outside! I finished with the clothing and turned off every light upstairs so that I could creep back into the office like a fucking ninja. I crouched on the floor under the window and peered out, waiting to get some kind of visual clue as to what the hell happened.
I felt like the biggest asshole in the world.
Here I was, crouched under my own window, in the dark, watching the EMTs carry the old man I see almost daily down the stairs and onto a stretcher, all the while hoping that nobody would notice my giant bottom of a bottle glasses peering over the windowsill. I suppose that anyone would wonder what the hell was happening if they suddenly saw emergency vehicles and personnel swarming the house across their street, but still. Watching from afar in a darkened room seemed somehow… excessive, if not just plain wrong. Yet there I was, as bad as those idiot rubber-neckers who hold up traffic trying to get a glimpse of an accident on the other side of the road, hoping that the streetlamp outside wouldn’t give away my position.
And then, it happened.
Enter stage left: some random bloke in a white t-shirt and pajama pants waltzing over to the house, trying to look as casual as possible. In the dark. In his motherfucking pajamas.
I watched as he walked right up to the EMTs as they loaded the old man onto the stretcher. This guy was so obviously looking for a tasty chunk of
gossip information that it was kind of gross, really. I watched as he momentarily disappeared from sight (he walked behind one of the trucks) and then promptly reappeared, shot down and walking back toward his perfect -- possibly hooker-hiding -- house. Watching this asshole made me feel worlds better about myself, as my curiosity was hidden in a dark room as opposed to right up in some shit that, quite frankly, no one but the parties involved had any right to be up in.
I can only hope that the EMT he briefly spoke with – or even my incapacitated neighbor himself – told Pajama Guy to fuck off.