Our Neighbor, Our Bartender

That's right, the duplex directly to the north of us (as opposed to the duplex directly to the east of us, or the rental-house to the southeast of us) has recently gained an upstairs occupant. My first clue was the truck parked in the driveway. The downstairs people have a minivan and a small old white chevy of some sort. My mom's first clue was the guy laying under the truck. She thought he was dead. Bruce noticed that he was gone a few hours later, and we decided that it was either an elaborate plot to make someone disappear, or that he was too drunk to get in his truck to sleep.

So this morning I was really happy to see that my new neighbor is the really nice girl who tends our favorite bar in town. She was unloading some stuff from the bed of her truck, and I welcomed her to the neighborhood (Her: "I'm your new neighbor!" Me: "Great! Cool!" I'm such a dork.) and very gracefully asked her who it was that was sleeping under her truck the other night? Because my mom thought they were dead.

Actually, she didn't know where the guy had been, just that they'd been drinking until around seven in the morning that day, and her friend got all snakey around five and disappeared for about an hour. When he reappeared, he had gravel all up and down his arm and embedded in his forehead, and he was about to pass out. She gave him some blankets (no furniture yet, this guy was supposed to help her move) and tried to brush off most of the gravel, and then he slept. He left later that morning without a word and hasn't talked to her since.

So that's the story of the guy who was sleeping (or maybe dead) under the truck the other morning. I'm so happy she moved in. I'm so happy that it's a party girl, and not an unhappy drunken couple who's making each other miserable all the time. I'm glad it's her because she's very nice and fun and she's not a mobster making people disappear.