House of Many Schedules

I live in a house of many schedules. It is a rare morning when I sleep until 6:30. Most days, I'm up much earlier, if only because others are moving and I have an incurable case of The Puritan Ethic. Morning is a beautiful time anyway and one of my first chores is to grab the newspapers and get the coffee.

During the day, some family member is always coming or going; a practice that may - knock wood - discourage burglars due to its unpredictability. We have some neighbors with similar schedules so this is far from an area that is deserted from 8 to 5. Unusual cars are scrutinized but our street attracts a cadre of early morning walkers who eventually become familiar sights.

Dog walking affected schedules for many of us and it became an indirect way of getting to meet the people seven or even doors down. My wife can match dogs to houses when I can barely name the human residents. She had an advantage. If you want to meet people, walk a Golden Retriever.

The Internet and telecommuting have played a role. One of our young neighbors - another consultant - is often at home and even some of the attorneys are around more often than they would have been say, ten years ago. And then there are the retirees: a dentist nearby and an insurance exec a little further. I suspect that they are going bonkers with the inactivity but perhaps I'm projecting. They seem happy enough as they garden and putter.

We used to have neighborhood parties; get acquainted barbeques that permitted all of us to meet the people we normally just waved to. They were fun although occasionally some dark stuff would surface; tidbits that could fuel a novel: "They say it was hardly the perfect crime. He may be out in ten years. The wife took the kids and left. The Mazerati is gone."

I'd go to those things and conclude that I was the neighborhood recluse. Everyone knew stories that I'd never heard or suspected.

I sort of like it that way.