Everyone says that living in the suburbs can be boring, but I disagree. If you keep your eyes open you never know what you might see.

Like the evening late last fall when I was grilling turkey burgers for dinner. Standing on my patio, I was taking in the crisp night air, the abundance of stars and the still quiet of my backyard. All was right in my little world.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, something moved. I looked up. There was my middle-aged neighbor, Jerry, standing in the hot white light of his second-story bedroom window – stark-naked.

My mouth fell open and I emitted a hard, startled deep-throated laugh. Transfixed, I stood with the grill tongs in one hand and the salt shaker in the other.

What was he doing? It looked as though he might be packing a suitcase. Yes, that made sense. Earlier in the day, I’d talked to Jerry when I was getting my mail. He’d mentioned he was taking his whole family to Mexico. They needed to relax, he explained.

Now, looking up at his exposed form, Jerry looked plenty relaxed to me. I’d say placid even.

At the same time, he appeared animated. With vigor and purpose, Jerry bounced back-and-forth taking clothes from the closet to the dresser to his suitcase on the bed.

Closet. Dresser. Bed.
Closet. Dresser. Bed.
Closet. Dresser. Bed.
Oh, my!

Blood was pounding in my ears. Jerry’s hefty, hairy body seemed to writhe as though he were moving to music only he could hear. Suddenly, as if on cue, he turned and strode straight toward the window. I gasped at the full unobstructed view of Jerry in all his pale, jiggling glory.

I certainly hoped he would be taking sunscreen with a high SPF to Mexico because he was going to need it.

Next, Jerry retreated to his closet and returned with a stack of what looked like solid color tan and beige polo shirts. This wasn’t good. I wanted to call up to him, “Jerry, dude, don’t take so many neutral shirts. You’re going to Mexico for god‘s sake!”

Because as we all know, taking the wrong clothes can really affect the success of a trip.

By this time, Jerry’s suitcase was full and my turkey burgers were done. It took all my willpower, but I knew what I had to do. Silently, I stole one last, very long look at Jerry’s big, amply-endowed body.

Then, reluctantly I turned off the grill, went inside and we ate dinner.