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Do you know your neighbours?

One of the holiday traditions that we had back home involved visiting our neighbours and catching up on the craic over copious cups of tea (The Republic of Ireland drinks more per capita than any other country. And we won't have any of that mamby bamby Earl Grey or the like!) The two cities where I've lived in the States are both very large major metropolitan cities, so I always chalked up my lack of familiarity with the people who live around me to rural/city differences. This year, with my parents visiting, I've decided that it feels really, profoundly strange that I don't know my neighbours better.

I know they exist and for the most part, they're good people. There's six units in our complex, and I've made a point to introduce myself to each of the other people at some point. However, I am absolutely terrible with names and so is my roommate, so instead we've wound up giving them descriptive titles, which have been mostly shortened to acronyms for ease of use. There's

Catman, aka the HMNN- I've mentioned him previously in a post (he's also the High-Maintenance Neurotic Neurologist). My roommate as a vet has found that her single male clients with cats seem to have...certain clichéd similarities, and this guy fits all of them almost a little too well. His normal speaking voice is also similar to Christian Bale's as Batman. He's also the only neighbour I know by name.


CPCWT- There's a Cute Pensioner Couple with Terriers (two Scotties). I know they have at least one son and he lives in NYC. At one point I knew their names, but instead have fallen into the awkward habit of using excessive politeness to mask a distinct lack of familiarity beyond the basics.

PSF- The other couple is neo-pagans. They're free spirits of sorts, and mostly okay, but almost obnoxiously hippie and holier-than-thou when it comes to environmental or health matters. When we had a complex-wide summer get-together they complained about my use of potatoes in a salad. "Don't you know that potatoes are laden with pesticides? I don't eat them!" Sooo... henceforth they became the Pagan Spudless Feckers (thank you Tommy Tiernan)

WoS- For Walk of Shame. All we know is that he works for one of the big software giants (Amazon? maybe? Microsoft?) and a different girl leaves his apartment almost every weekend morning (Important-this isn't intended at all to be a criticism of them. No slut shaming here). He's polite but distant, and he owns a small dog that the cats have decided is their arch-nemesis. We know when he's walking past our door because the cats will stare at the door every time like they just know.

The sixth unit is empty as far as I know.

Is this a uniquely Seattle thing/big city thing? A symptom of an increasingly isolated world? One of my weird neuroses that I can remember seemingly unrelated details about a person but never their name?


Do you have any colourful or distinctive neighbours?

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