Neighbors

Sometimes I spy on my neighbor.  Not actually spy on him, per se, but watch him secretly… which is quite similar to spying, now that I think about it…, but it’s different in this case (I promise).

For a while, I was trying to figure out which of my supposed building-mates lived directly across from me / next to me / on my floor (it’s two, two, and two, four apartments total, with the bottom floor actually being a storage place on one side and a hair salon on the other (owned by the owner of the building’s wife)).  And, for various reasons, I didn’t want to open my door whenever I heard the person opening up the door across from mine.

Firstly, I don’t know much Japanese, so that’s an awkward introduction in and of itself.  Add to it that I would be swinging open my door – which directly faces the neighbor’s with about two meters of space between them – just to look at my neighbor, and would be lacking an explanation for why I have just sprinted open my door and started staring.  And then the fact that I oftentimes hear him at his door late at night, so I’m either just getting ready to shower, have just showered, or am already dressed for bed (all situations which include my being in little-to-no clothing), and you have a good reason not to throw open the door late at night in your knickers, and try to introduce/explain yourself in a language you don’t really speak to the shocked neighbor.  Yeah, I wasn’t really about that.

So, I would just rush to my door whenever I heard him – usually, anyway – in hopes of figuring out if he were the teacher, the college student, or the third one (whose occupation I completely forgot).  Now, because of the little entry area for removing one’s outdoor shoes, I even had to lean forward with both hands on the door to hold me up, so that I could look out the peep hole, making me feel even more like the spy I probably am.  And, you know what?  I still haven’t figured it out.

I have no idea which person the guy is.

I do know that he isn’t the lady with the car – I hear her pound down the stairs from above every day at about 7:30 in a tremendous rush, and then drive off.  I Think he isn’t the college student, because the one time I got a half glimpse of his face, he didn’t look too young.  However, he keeps odd hours like a college student in the US might keep, so I haven’t ruled out that option yet.  So, basically, I have learned that a man of some age lives across from me, and I think he lives alone.  Other than that, I have no idea.

So I’m thinking about making pralines enough to give out to all three apartments, and go meet them all.  Now that I know a good bit more Japanese  – it’s still totally broken, but I get myself communicated usually.  And I’ve learned how to make pralines.  That helps, too.  (They were really delicious, actually, and I was really proud of them when I made them the other week…)

The point of this all?  I guess that I’m really a stalker, but get totally lazy about it when it comes to things after I’m already home for the night.  And that I can make pralines.  Yeah, that’s pretty much it for tonight.  😀  Love and laughter, my friends – share them both with others today.  🙂

 

Day 20 of 40
I'm part of Post A Day 2016

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