Everyone's New Favorite Hobby: Voyeurism!

In the great 'tine of 2020, I would imagine I'm not the only one who's taken up the fine art of what I like to call watching the neighbors. However, my wife refers to it as spying or worse, voyeurism.

Let me clarify something... I've pretty much been a voyeur for the last eight years, the length of time I've been working from home. Nothing happens in my 'hood without me knowing about it. And I've seen some really interesting things. There was the goth daughter of "Captain America" who used to secretly smoke at the back of the house. One day I waved at her and she flew into full-on panic mode. (Like I'd ever rat her out to "Captain America". Couldn't stand the guy with his outdoor Neil Diamond sing-alongs and grill daddying.)

There was the ludicrous neighbor who used to take his beer cans into the street, spread 'em out, then drive back and forth over them in his pick-'em-up truck. Keep in mind this was before recycling. His huge-ass grin kinda explained it all.

Then there was the huge-ass blow-out I witnessed (aurally, not visually) by the neighbors catty-corner to the back of our house. The husband came home midday to find his wife in the arms of another man. Things got heated and loud. And I scribbled down notes, fodder for a future book.

Of course I wrote an entire book about the weird, mysterious and rude neighbors across the street, Neighborhood Watch. You'll have to read it to find out their story. (Coda: after the book came out, the dreaded neighbors packed up in the middle of the night and left, leaving behind all of their belongings. No one knows why and no one's seen nor heard from them again.)

Now everyone's catching up to my hobby, including my wife. While she's not really people watching, she is spending time looking out the upstairs window. In the past, we've had quite a few varmints pass through our Kansas suburban backyard in the past: a great granddaddy of opossums who liked to stay out all night and crawl beneath our deck in the mornings; squirrels that attack by throwing acorns when we leave the house; birds who just love to use my car and deck for target practice; bunnies (my wife's bane) who devour the garden; and a mysterious creature that leaves huge piles of scat at the bottom of our walk-out basement (a bear, gotta be a bear, based on the size of the pile. One with a sense of mischievous humor).

But I digress. Last week, my wife's in her upstairs office, supposedly working, but in actuality gazing out the window into the neighbor's yard. She pounds down the stairs and in a hushed voice, tells me to come quickly. In the neighbor's yard sat a large, horned owl. Just hanging out in a tree staring at us. Tossing some of that voyeurism right back our way. And if you've ever had a stare-down with an owl (with those large terrifying, unblinking orbs of eyes), it's no contest which species always wins.

And a lil white baby owl!

Stranger yet, it's broad daylight. A portentous omen? A sign of luck? Or one goofy owl who can't tell time.

Anyway, my wife claims there was a smaller one hanging out with it earlier, but I never saw the two. Just that big large dude with the unblinking gaze into my soul.

What's the point of all of this? I dunno. Maybe nature's looking right back at us during the 2020 'tine.

But in lock-down, there's not a whole lot else to do. Who would have ever imagined watching movies, reading books, drinking beer, and overeating would ever get boring? 

I've read we're supposed to shut off the idiot box and take up a hobby. Enjoy real life. Enjoy the outdoors.

That's what I'm doing! Enjoying "real life" and the outdoors through the wide-screen bay window of my house! MUCH better than TV. (Pass the popcorn and crack open the beer! I'm not sure I recognize that new car in front of the randy nurses' house!).

Week four of captivity...

Stay safe.