Something strange at the neighbor’s house
Greetings from the Ridge.
I love my neighbors. I really do. They’re a youngish family with teenage kids and just looking across the yard and watching them grow has been a thrill for Herb and I. In fact, Herb would never admit it, but he has emotionally adopted their oldest girl, Mindy. The man can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but when his young friend is out late at night he can’t fall asleep until he sees the lights of her headlights pull into the drive.
So far be it from me to criticize such wonderful neighbors, but every time I go next door to visit I get a creepy feeling that something strange is happening. I was having coffee yesterday with Mrs. Parsons after the kids had taken off for school and just as I was about to take a sip I heard a Ding! from inside her purse, then a voice saying, “Don’t forget. You need milk.” Thinking she was talking to me, I stopped mid-gulp and said, “No, I take mine black.” Mrs. P smiled at me and said, “No Freida, that was my phone.” Her phone needed milk? “It keeps track of when I buy things and reminds me when I’m running low.” This was a bit unnerving, but I sipped on, then another Ding! “Reminder... hair appointment, two o’clock p.m.” Her phone could see her hair? “It’s my digital butler.” Being a gal who still writes things in the calendar squares on my kitchen wall I was flummoxed. I hurriedly downed the rest of my coffee and hustled my buns back across the yard before my coffee cup started talking to me.