Perfect Neighbours

From September 2006 St. Thomas Super Shopper

When we moved into our home in the downtown area 13 years ago, we had good neighbours, many well-established. Some of them had been here for generations.
The last of this original group moved out in August when they sold their house.
It was as if Bill and Joy (we’ll call them) had written the book on good neighbourliness,
Without ever appearing to have prying eyes or be snooping, they always seemed to know what was going on.
If we were going away for a bit, Bill and Joy were happy, without intruding, to keep an eye on the place.
Of course, with a couple like this, if you needed a tool for a project, you knew where to turn.
Bill, in particular, was a winter person. I don’t know how many people I’ve heard this summer say, “Give me 30 below over 30 above any day.” Bill was like that.
And when he shoveled his driveway or sidewalk in the winter, it not only looked as if it had been swept, which it probably had. The edges seemed to have been sculpted by a Nordic snow artist.
Now this leads me to one comment about perfect neighbours—their very perfection can make life a little tough.
Let’s say your soffits should have been painted two years ago, you’ve redone two of the seven basement windows you started five years ago and you have a tendency to get out a book on those beautiful summer days that are ripe for renovation projects.
As you crack the spine on a new novel in September—projects still waiting—for all the ways in which you miss the perfect neighbours, you might experience a tiny moment of forbidden pleasure. The pressure’s off, as long as those new neighbours . . .
Dance