A little while ago, I told a group of friends that we hadn’t met any of our new neighbors. None of them have come to introduce themselves. My friends have a theory on why….
I’ve mentioned that my sister lives with us… Have I mentioned that two of my sisters actually live here? So, there are 12 people living in our house: Mr. Darcy, three women, and eight children.
There are six cars (two minivans!) parked in our driveway and a multitude of bikes. There are a million kids playing in the yard at any given moment.
Our neighbors must think we’re polygamists, right? Mr. Darcy and his three wives? Me and my sister-wives??? That are actually my sisters?? Living on our polygamist compound, wearing our weird clothes. (One Sunday, I got home from church and noticed there was some trash on the lawn. After I pulled into the garage and unloaded my kids, I kicked off my heels and shoved on some sneakers. Still wearing my church dress, I walked out to pick up the garbage and wouldn’t you know it, right then our neighbors drove by and gave me a “What the hell is she wearing??” look. D’oh!)
So, if this theory is true, I’m guessing we shouldn’t count on hanging out with our neighbors very often. However, it might be a good idea to prepare for an FBI raid.
–On the bright side, I get to be the head wife (is that what they’re called?). Which is awesome, because I’m pretty sure they get to have the biggest bangs. Right??
(Wondering how large swoopy bangs would look with my Tom Petty hair.)