THE GLADYS KRAVITZ SYNDROME

Every neighborhood has it own and special inhabitant who specializes in peeking out their window and attacking you with trivial and mundane conversation at the most inopportune moments.  I think there must be a local, state, or federal mandate that insures there is a "Gladys Kravitz" per number of households and within a proximity of service.

If you are too young or don't remember the original "Bewitched" series with Elizabeth Montgomery, Gladys was the old biddy nosy neighbor to end all nosy neighbors.  You see this type of character in almost all Hollywood movies and television series.  During casting calls for these films, the category of "Old Biddy Nosey Neighbor" must draw a line of wonderful character actors and actresses.  One comes to mind, Kathleen Freeman, who has been in so many movies and shows typecast as this personality, she must; as Liberace stated: "Laugh all the way to the bank."

My "Gladys Kravitz" lives across the street and a couple of houses down.  Her front and kitchen bay window give her an unrestricted view of my front door, lawn, and mailbox.  Like all good surveillance personnel, she must keep a diary of every one's comings, goings, and daily routines.
Her day, kicks into high gear, when she sees the postman has finished his daily stuffing of our boxes with 80% sales materials, 15% charity brochures asking for money, 4% bills, and 1% mail you really wanted/needed & expected to receive last month, but somehow it just arrived  in a very crumpled and muddy state of disarray.

My mailbox journey from the front door takes 15 seconds.  I, then spend another 5 or 10 seconds, insuring all the mail is mine, before initiating the return trip of 15 seconds back to safety of my house.  Less than a minute, but several times a week, as I turn to return, there's my Gladys. Her staccato monologue had started half way across the street and completely out of my range of hearing. How this elderly and allegedly feeble woman can cross that distance in such short time; would be the envy of every teenage Sonic delivery girl on roller skates.

Yesterday, I inadvertently got my revenge.  Working at home, doing research for clients and writing, I, like all virtual office (work at home) individuals, tend to be lax in my dress code.  Let's be honest, I work a lot of mornings in my PJ's and if I don't have to leave the house, I shower and shave (if I shave) later in the day or before bed.  Lazy, maybe, but it sure beats last years $100 per month dry cleaning bill.

I digress.  It was mid morning and I was still dressed in my PJ's.  It was time for the dog's routine of anointing my wife's Petunia bed. I anticipate from this natural fertilization, these small flowers should grow to the size of jumbo elephant ear plants.  Suddenly, there was Gladys.  The dog, frightened, jumped and barked, before attempting to run for the front door.  We were trapped.

Evidently today's subject was health and surgeries.  As she prattled on, the dog gave me the look of curiosity, by turning his head and telepathically begging to escape.  I was obliged to smile, nod, and give the obligatory:  "Wow that sounds awful, I'm glad you are feeling better."  By this time the dog is asleep at my feet.  The monologue turned to her latest surgery and I sternly but politely declined to examine her scar.

Gladys then said:  "You know your pajamas are on backward."
No, I did not realize I had made such a faux pas; but the gauntlet had been thrown down, so I had to respond.

"Of course, Gladys, I'm sure in this day and age of water conservation and cut backs to every one's budget, you would agree, it's imperative we save anywhere we can."  "So, I wear my PJ's correctly for a week or so, then backward for a week or so, then inside out correctly, for a week or so, then inside out and backward for a week or so."  "Just think of all the water, and money we save."  "It also works great for underwear."  "You and your husband should try it."

It worked.  Gladys was speechless.  Appalled but speechless.  I started walking backwards toward the door. The dog must have thought it was game; as he was walking backwards on his leash.  Gladys was still silent with her mouth agape as I left.

"Oh, one more thing you have to remember Gladys.  When your pants are on backward you to walk and do everything in reverse."  Hello" was the last word she heard from me as I closed the door.

The Moral to this story.  If you think Reverse Mortgages are powerful, try wearing your pants backward to rid yourself of unwanted neighbors, relatives who have over stayed their welcome, or those pesky blind dates. 

Hello