It seems that on every House Hunters we watch around here, the couple searching for their dream home anxiously says to their realtor (a person who often looks strained to the point of screaming), "We want a private back yard. We don't want everyone staring at us and peering into our business."
I, for one, want to know exactly what all these couple are doing in their backyards that they don't want everyone to see. Because, you know? None of the neighbors give a flying flip about your kids playing in the sandbox or you out there planting geraniums. They don't care about your pork chops on the barbecue or your dog pooping in the grass. So unless you're an ardent devotee of topless sunbathing or things of a more intimate nature done al fresco -- in which case, shame on you, were you raised in a barnyard? -- let me just tell it to you straight: THE NEIGHBORS DON'T CARE. They're not really interested in you at all. They are not spending their days eagerly hanging about by the patio door saying, "Oooh, I can hardly wait until the neighbors' kids come out to swing! And did you see that flat of petunias the missis bought yesterday? Do you think she's going to, like, plant them? Seriously, this is just as exciting as Christmas freakin' morning!"
You're boring. We're all boring. We all do boring stuff at home that no one else cares about, because they're all at their houses doing their own boring stuff and they have no time to sit wistfully gazing at your boring stuff. Get over yourselves, House Hunters.
I'm a happy Catholic; a wife; a homeschooling mother of one teenage daughter and one college-aged daughter; a writer; enthusiastic crafter of countdown paper chains; a Buffy fan, a reader; a Shakespeare teacher; a literature teacher; a composition teacher; a former soap-maker; a minivan driver; an inward grump; an outward sweetie-pie; a history geek; a dog lover; a rehabilitated and repentant former thief of bandwidth; a killer of plants; a soft-hearted taker-in of strays; a reformed housekeeper; an insomniac