It’s been a long time coming. :cheer: Since seven is my lucky number, I take this as a good sign.

Last night, I went outside for a smoke, yeah, I know…soon…My guy had just went inside when our eccentric (for lack of a better adjective ) neighbor came outside. He likes to :720: a lot. But the problem with him is you never quite know if he’s intoxicated or sober because there’s only a slight difference between the two.

Whenever I’m by myself, I pray that he doesn’t see me, so I either stay very, very still or I slink back into the house because he just isn’t right. He’s like some alcoholic Dr. Suess. He rhymes.

Last night, he spied me. In hand was a brown paper bag that obviously had beer cans in it. “Can you hear me?” he asked loudly.

Uh, the whole neighborhood can. I pretend not to hear him.

“Do you hear the cans saying crinkle dinkle?”

I want some of what you’re having if those beer cans just spoke. “Nope.”

“Oh! Well, they did. You’re a writer…” mumbles something incoherent…”as he walked down the sidewalk….crinkle dinkle.”

:what: Slinks towards front door.

“I have to walk to (the next town),” he says. Does he think for one second I’m going to drive him there? When I say nothing, he continues. “I walk all over the place.” Goes into great detail about the area in which he walks. “But that’s okay because I meet a lot of interesting people. One time, I even met myself.”

I can’t resist. “How did that go?”

“I didn’t like him.”

:cuckoo: “Too bad. Good bye.”

I realized that if he keeps talking to me, one day I can do a Thursday Thirteen on the things he says in rhyme. So far I have razzle-dazzle, faschizzle-drizzle, crinkle-dinkle and RATS! ( You had to be there. *giggles* )

…back to da editing cave :write: