How Not to Meet Your Next Door Neighbor

I have been a single mom for many years now.  And with two lovely daughters, “socializing” has not been on my agenda.  That, and between work and all the other things I want to do, I am selfish enough not to want to give up doing something else to fit anyone else in.

But recently, my thoughts have been turning to ‘what if’.  If watching the couple at Borders meet up for the first time, eavesdropping on their conversation and spilling coffee down the front of my shirt was not enough to convince me to leave things alone, tonight was a prime example of why I should not be allowed to be social.

I am getting ready for bed.  Think knee-length, worn plaid nightshirt (not feeling the best---comfy pj’s).  Texter comes running back in the door.  She had just left to walk the dog one last time tonight and was yelling “quick Mom!  Firemen and police downstairs!” “Hurry!” “I’m scared!”  So, I grab the first pair of pants (after all I might be burning up shortly) and run outside onto the landing. 

Seems the fire alarm in the 2nd floor apartment diagonal to us had been going over for a while and one of the neighbors called it in.  We knew the guy there had moved out about a month ago and no one was there. 

Watched the fireman chop off the lock on the door and go inside.  Met my next door neighbor I had seen in passing.  Shook hands.  Nice guy.  My age. 

Oh, did I mention the pants I grabbed to pull on (and stuff my night shirt into) were a 60’s patterned polka dot in brown, cream and orange.  My night shirt, very faded blue and pink plaid.  The shoes….my fleece lined, olive green crocs.

Nope….not ready to be let loose in public yet!