Sometimes I feel like an almost spy. Or maybe like that nosy neighbor who was always watching the neighborhood from her window on the tv show Bewitched. It's just that I really like sitting near a window or on the porch when I'm reading or writing, and I often spend a lot of the time looking out. I like to look out.
The thing that (probably) saves me from being a busybody is that I don't keep track of who comes and goes when and I don't really care. I'm pretty sure this is the sole reason I have not yet been recruited by the CIA or FBI for an undercover assignment.
Sometimes seeing what's going on in the neighborhood can get a little dicey. Like today, when I saw the man diagonally across the street cleaning out flowerbeds and doing other work around the outside of his family's house. I was sitting in a comfy chair reading a book just for the fun of it. I kept looking up from time to time, thinking that he was making me look bad. I worried that if Husband saw it, he'd want me to put down my book and do yard work instead. Then I decided that maybe Neighbor was making Husband look bad--after all, maybe Neighbor's wife was off somewhere reading too. So I kept reading. Their flowerbeds are cleared and ready for spring. Ours are still littered plant remains from fall.
Their kids were out playing in their yard, a perfect picture of a family Saturday. Mine kids were...somewhere. I think Youngest was down the street. Middle when across to another neighbor's house to hang out, and I know she was playing volleyball in that yard for a while. And Oldest? Well, his bike was parked by the walk leading up to the porch, so he had been somewhere at some point. Told you I'm bad at keeping track.
And then there are the exercisers. Almost every time I look out, someone is walking or jogging or riding a bike or playing ball or doing something to get into or stay in shape. Every time I see them out there I feel a little twist in my gut and a little voice in my head reminds me for the umpteenth time that I set a goal of exercising almost every day. Wanna know how often it happens? I'm not telling (I am good at keeping secrets), but let's just say I've come to view the sight of the physically fit among the hazards of sitting near a window or on the porch in a neighborhood on a quiet street with wide sidewalks.
Despite the potential danger of being made to feel like I ought to be out exercising or doing yard work or making my kids play in our own yard, I know I won't give up watching. These are risks I am willing to endure in my life as an almost spy.