I've been reading Margaret Mason's book on things to blog about (and credit her for the bastardization of the title of this post), and with thanks to BellaCantare for the wonderful Christmas gift, I've decided that while I could wax eloquent about my dinner this evening, since it was one of the first real meals I've cooked on my antique stove in my new apartment, I'll write about something else entirely, since nobody really cares about my yummy meatballs.
Hmmm, should I write about the boxes still sealed on the floor of my kitchen, or my possible visit with my parents in March? Or maybe about the fabulousness of my current 15-minute commute to work?
Nope, I think I'll write about how I have yet to meet the two neighbors next to me. One person lives next door, and the other directly across the hall (with about seven feet separating our apartments) and I have yet to meet either of these people. At what point should I leave notes inviting them over for a beer (or whatever)? Maybe they've been away. Or perhaps they're very, very busy. In any event, to not even see either of them leave or enter the building is a little odd. So, in case they're reading, the invitations are forthcoming. As soon as I finish arranging the furniture.
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