It’s early, too soon to tell, and I’m not talking bout the neighbor to the east or the one below. I’m talking bout the one to the west. The one that’s most likely really and truly nuts.

Just a hunch, really, since she’s only been our neighbor for … since the end of April. We only chat once a week, on either side of the chain link fence that separates our yards. And only a dozen or so times thus far have I, from the comfort and privacy of my own living room, heard her screaming her head off in hers, then stomping around slamming things, which is closely followed by wailing, then laughing, then she calls someone on the phone, then someone comes over, then the two of them are crazy together, in ways that are more annoying than interesting, then they pass out.  I like it when they pass out cause then that means I can get some sleep.

But I think it’s a pretty educated hunch, that she’s gone completely round the bend, sanity-wise, based on the fact that the mailman says she might be, and the fact that, in our weekly chats, she does have that crazy look in her eyes that most crazy people have. That wide eyed look. Like you just surprised ‘em with something, anything, doesn’t matter what, cause they sure weren’t expecting what you just surprised ‘em with.

Yeah, she’s prolly gonna wind up being a crazy neighbor. Everyone has at least one. Safe to say, she’ll be mine/ours. Safe to say she’ll be the one who when we see her out and about, we’ll duck back inside or into our car real quick or pretend to be concentrating on the deep conversation we’re having so therefore don’t have time for her just then. Safe to say that one time when she kept opening and slamming the dumpster lids while screaming ‘Jesus Christ, close!’ will tame in comparison to some of the other real crazy shit she’s gonna wind up doing.

(When we were searching for a new place to live, it woulda been nice if the agent mentioned that next door lives a woman who’s bats in the belfry off her rocker mental howling at the moon wacky-nu-nu. Woulda been nice. We woulda picked our runner up place, cause we met the neighbors at the runner up, the neighbors on both sides and across the street and they sure as shit didn’t seem crazy.)

Why, just this morning, I woke to the sound of our new neighbor yelling at her mom, telling mom to put the fucking money in the fucking bank and quit being a fucking bitch about it. I thought that would be a prelude to some real craziness. I got a coffee, dragged a folding chair over to the window, and waited for things to get even more interesting. But I think her mom hung up on her cause suddenly, all was silence over there next door. So instead, I sat on the folding chair and ruminated on how if I called my mom a bitch I wouldn’t have lived to do it a second time.

I feel bad calling her a nutjob when I don’t even know her name, though. But … she won’t tell me. I gave her a perfectly good chance to tell me her name and she declined or didn’t get that I was giving her that perfectly good chance. I know her name is not Julie (kinda a long, not very interesting story, that one), and I know she has a cocker spaniel named Payton. When I moved in I saw her and her dog lazing around in the back yard. I went over and introduced myself. I extended my hand, which I thought was neighborly enough, but she didn’t take it. If anything, she recoiled a bit, kinda withdrew, like my hand had offended her somehow. Or I had just used it to pick my nose or ass and so was the last thing she wanted to touch. But I hadn’t so I know it wasn’t that which made her recoil, it musta been something else, something on her end.

Anyway, her not telling me kinda flustered me in a way, and when I get flustered I do tend to ramble a bit. (You ever wanna fluster me real good, start snapping at me when you think I least expect it. Like when you show up for a reservation you’d made but I can’t find the book with the reservations in it. Snap at me then. You’ll see me flustered. Boy will you see me flustered. I’m told it’s funny to see.)

So I stood there, hand out like a moron, until she told me her dog’s name was Payton. That flustered me a bit more, so I told her if she ever wanted to be truly disappointed by a dinner, she was more than welcome to visit our place. If I was there, I’d comp her, which means she’d get disappointed for free, which was way less than those who had to pay for it, and ergo slightly less disappointing.

But I hope she doesn’t come in, cause this place is crazy enough on its own, thank you very much. Crazy with just the people we got working here and the regulars. (Coney came in Tuesday night and tried to put double bleu cheese on a reuben. I thought that was crazy, all right. Double blue on a reuben? Makes no sense.) In fact, one of the ways you get to be a regular is to come here over and over and over, to the point where we know your name but your name’s not good enough so we give you a nickname, a handle. And since only a crazy person would come here over and over and over (hell, more than once means you’re a few bullets short of a clip), a regular is by definition crazy.

And the employees? Good lord. Laura’s most likely certifiable. If she ever were actually to try to get certified, she’d have no problem. Steve’s just as cuckoo clock only it’s tougher to tell cause he’s always under the influence of something or other, so you don’t know what’s natural and what’s artificial. Jason’s so far off the wall he doesn’t even know there is a wall. Cheryl, she’s not too bad, but she’s depressed lately, and I guess if you get depressed enough, you go insane. Julie’s got an insane competitive streak. Sarah’s not crazy, per se, but it’s really easy to make her paranoid. Alan, I don’t even know where to begin. Regina, well, she ain’t normal, I can tell you that much. As far as the kitchen goes, it’s kinda tough to tell, since I don’t speak enough Mexican to gauge who’s crazy and who’s not.

The only ones who aren’t crazy are me and Jimmy. Me, I was crazy, but I saw a therapist and take lotsa pills so now am a-okay. Jimmy, Jimmy’s loaded and too busy having fun to be crazy. Right now, he’s sposed to be working, he’s sposed to be here doing these orders I’m doing and taking care of the week’s mailing list additions. But it’s a nice day out so he went golfing.