Chai and Couscous

Ok. I used to be of the opinion that “Good walls make good neighbors”.  To a large extent it is true. My home is both my castle and my sweet, sweet cradle. Cradle of sanity and comfort. Bastion of Will-ness. Not that visitors are unwelcome, but for the most part I am perfectly happy reading, napping, mopping, strumming on my guitar and sometimes getting up to no good.

Also, I literally have good walls. In the back yard I have these twelve foot concrete walls that seem higher because my back yard is fairly small. The walls seem extra tall when you’re locked out back in a rainstorm wearing nothing but your boxers. In that case, not even “good walls” spared my neighbors a surprise visit–aka me jumping the wall, knocking on their back door, tearing through their house for the front door screaming “I’m so sorry” at everyone I met in my path as I left a watery trail behind.  But, in general, live and let live.

But, I’ve changed my mind recently. You see, Friday is couscous day and for whatever reason, the woman next door likes me despite my antics. Maybe it’s because we usually see each other along the street in front of our houses when we dump our mop water and exchange cleaning tips. Maybe it’s because I stepped out front and played guitar for her 6-year-old daughter one morning. Maybe it’s cause I always say hi to her son when I see him around town. For the last four weeks, she has been knocking on my door every Friday after were both done cleaning, and in her hands, a steaming plate of couscous. I swear the heavens open up and angels play heavenly trumpet tunes every single time this happens.

Cardamom is freaking expensive. just so you know.

Last week I made Chai and when she brought me the food I gave her the tea saying with a huge grin, “It’s real special tea…enjoy.”

Today, noon came and went and no couscous. I became worried. Would I have to make lunch? I felt like I should go over and explain that like a wild animal, you can’t feed me regularly — not feed me delicious couscous, and then one day not deliver. I would get irritable. She might find me pacing in front of her door with a mean glint in my eye. Maybe I’d run through her house half-naked screaming like I did to the other neighbors. Who knows?

Luckily though, there was a knock at the door, and the cute little neighbor girl stood there. The heavens opened, trumpets played and I gave her two lollipops that I had in my back pocket. She grabbed them and shyly ran off. I could hear her mother fussing at her not to eat them before lunch. I walked back to the kitchen, opened the back door, sat down an stared through the steam of the couscous at my backyard and it’s tall walls.

Just another day in paradise.

'nuff said.