Blythe Spirit

Won’t you be my neighbor?

I’ve been imagining this day for weeks – my house would feel airy, my closets purged, no more small plastic quacking duck toys or blue spatulas with price tags on them floating around my life.

It’s true, the price tags are mainly gone (except the one I found stuck to the bottom of my shoe this morning)but somehow the only difference in my house is that our living room is pitch black as soon as the sun goes down because we sold all the floor lamps. I can’t even quite remember what else I’ve sold, besides the microwave, which was missing when I attempted to make popcorn this afternoon.

On the positive side, we met some of our neighbors during the sale. Many friendly folks with adorable dogs and children who have now adopted our toaster, coffee table, leather jacket, and weed eater (I guess I do remember what we sold). Unfortunately we weren’t especially neighborly neighbors during the past five years or we might have met them before we sold our house.

Perhaps this will inspire us to meet and greet the neighbors in our new neighborhood, though it may take me five years to learn “Hello, my name is Blythe, please be my friend” in German.