I forgot to pop allergy medicine this morning, so I’m even more chipper and friendly than usual today. My throat feels like it’s on fire. Why I thought today would be a great day for contacts, I’m not sure. I’m fairly certain they are going to flow down my cheeks in a stream of pollen induced tears. Anyways…
When we made the decision to go from renting an apartment in Watervliet to buying a house in East Greenbush, many factors came into play. For me, the lack of privacy while apartment dwelling was really grating on my nerves. I wanted a place where I could come home from work, grab a coffee (or some wine, depending on the day), go into the backyard with our dog and read the latest Emily Giffin without eyes
judging watching or people trying to make conversation.
We purchased a home on a double lot. I quickly envisioned a peaceful oasis- flowers and Adirondack chairs, wicker swings and bistro tables. While imagining my silent sanctuary, I failed to take into consideration that we now lived on a hill. Meaning that even a ten foot fence does not block our neighbor’s view of our yard. Or us. And with two young children, a puppy and an overly-chatty husband and wife duo, that quickly made my silent sanctuary null and void.
Listen – I’m the first to say that I’m not the friendliest person in the world. Don’t get me wrong. I have no qualms about throwing a neighborly wave their way. If I saw that their puppy got loose, I would happily bring him back to their yard. But do you know what I DON’T want to do? Have a twenty minute conversation every time I go outside. If you see me going out back with a magazine and a
bottle goblet glass of wine, you don’t need to ask me what I’m up to. It’s apparent.
Now, being a total witch would not be a problem for me. I have no problem ignoring both adults and children alike, in order to reclaim my space. I won’t discriminate whom I direct my bad attitude towards. My problem is my husband. He’s just too nice. This is one of the traits I simultaneously love and dislike about him. He can make friends with anyone. And clingers, as I like to call them, know it at first glance. Like a wild animal sniffing out its prey, clingers know that they can lull my husband into an hour long conversation. In our back yard. While eating OUR chips.
It appears that I can’t just ask my husband to be blatantly rude, like I plan on doing, in order to get some privacy. (Well, I did ask him, but it turns out that his answer is “absolutely not”.) He understands where I’m coming from, but he’s already opened a can of worms (I don’t get that saying. I’ve seen worms. They aren’t that speedy. Does the saying originator mean a can of snakes? Like that “Surprise!” toy? Is ‘can of snakes’ too distracting and scary to say, so they changed it to worms?***). So, my question to you is how do we get this to stop? How can we get back our privacy without looking like total jerks? How would you handle this?
***Guys, bad news. I google image searched “can of worms”, thinking I’d find a cutesy graphic. Instead, there were pictures and pictures of pop-top can of worms. Sooo now I can vomit up my morning coffee because that was gross.