If I go to any open houses I will usually say that I’m a neighbor or that I like the neighborhood, which is the case. The last open house that I attended was in a neighborhood that I liked and it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. The house was very similar to mine, except the yard was different and it has a bit more square footage and the kitchen layout was different.

The owner of a scrape-off and new construction happened to motion me over when I had stopped by his home to get a brochure. I had no idea that he was also the builder of the home and he invited me in for a very detailed tour giving me a lot of information and details about every inch of the construction. It was surprising and I had no intention of staying there that long. The home was on the market for over $1.2 million, but he couldn’t sell it and so moved his family into it himself. It is a lovely home, but I stil prefer my older, smaller cottage.

In early January I was getting my mail and my neighbor comes out to chat. She says to me, “Ed died.” I respond, “Oh how sad.” while making a beeline across the street and thinking, “I can take a peek inside his house cause it is the reverse floor plan of mine.” I go over to his house and tiptoe through the landscaping. The blinds are open so I cup my hands to my eyes and have a look around. I continue looking for a few moments until I see a man sitting on the couch. I say, “Huh, Ed’s not dead, he’s sitting on the couch looking right at me.” My neighborhood takes a long drag on her cigarette and says, “That’s not Ed’s house. Ed lives next door to me.” I quickly back away from the window and get my feet tangled in his landscaping and Christmas decorations. I end up falling backward and landing in a pile of mulch. The next morning on the way to work I see tangled ornaments and mulchy footprints in the grass in front of Not Ed’s window.