Meet the Neighbors: The Golden Years

I live in a condo complex with more than 350 units. So, naturally, I've never met 347 of my neighbors. But my unit shares an entrance, dare I say foyer (must be obnoxiously pronounced foy-a, and with a French accent), with three other units.

When I moved in, legend had it that these three neighbors were elderly women. One thing I learned early on was that elderly women don't make many public appearances. In fact when the foyer (French accent please) smelled like stinky garbage, I began to wonder when the flies would show up. My first meeting with my neighbors, I feared, would be over their cadavers. I have such a positive outlook on life, huh?

(As a quick aside, on my second day in my complex, the police knock an my door and asked if I had seen my next door neighbor. Her family hadn't heard from her in two whole days, so they thought she might be off to the great condo complex in the sky. Of course I had no answers, I didn't know her unit number, her name and my unit was mostly empty with some boxes around the place. Hellllllo Person of Interest! The neighbor, Gloria, turned up shortly thereafter. I think she might have been at a Bingo tournament. Maybe shopping for mothballs. How the hell do I know, I just moved in.)

Finally one day I met one of them. I was coming in from my morning run (Okay it was a walk and occasional jog. Are you happy?) and this lady, whose name I still don't know, was expending quite an effort to pick up her morning paper which I had placed in front of her door before leaving for my morning run/walk/jog/hop/skip.

I say good morning when she looks up. Apparently frustrated with her lack of dexterity, she looks up at me and says, I swear to God, "They call them the Golden Years. They're full of shit." Well, good morning to you too!

I tried my best, and said "Maybe today will be a better day" to which she responded as if I had written her script, "Maybe I'm Cindy Crawford. I haven't had one of those better days for three years."

Well it's nice to meet you I thought as a scampered up the stairs to my unit.

One of the elderly neighbors checked out....er....I mean moved out before I got the pleasure to meet her. Now there's a younger couple in that unit. They watch Cops a lot, so I haven't exactly brought them the freshly baked apple pie yet.

And Gloria, the occasionally missing neighbor, has become a fairly regular supporting cast member in my life. I've got some stories about her too, but I can't give away the store in one post. Stay tuned for more about the Golden Girls, stories from the produce aisle and the rest of the assorted uninetional humor from my life.