Neighbours...

... everybody needs good neeeiiiiighbourrrrrrs.

They’ve opened those horrible translucent windows this morning for the first time in ages.

I only noticed because the woman who lives there just appeared in what must be her office. She is wearing stripes all over, you can’t miss her. So flamboyant. What a show off. It must be her office because it has a big screen in there.

They’re an odd pair that live in that flat. All the exterior windows are translucent, so nobody can see inside when they are closed. It’s not normal. I don’t want to watch all day, of course, I would never do that. I like to sit by the window for the fresh air, but I do like to know what kind of people are living around here. The fact that their windows are translucent must mean something odd goes on in there. It’s very strange. I expect they spend much of the time naked.

In spring, they open the windows and they stay open all day (and night, it’s madness) until it rains again. Oddly, I’ve never seen them naked. I have spotted the women at night, though. She goes to the bathroom to do her necessities, turns on the light and forgets to shut the door. It’s disgusting. She occasionally remembers to shut it half way through, but it’s usually too late. I’ve seen everything. What a weirdo.

Her office is a terrible mess. She’s moved the big screen since I last saw through the window, though, and now she’s sitting behind it. I can’t see as much as I used to of the big messy cupboard. It’s a disgraceful mess. I don’t know how she bears it. She must be foreign, or a drug addict. Her husband seems to be Portuguese, though. He swears in proper Portuguese when the stray cats are screaming at each other at four in the morning.

I used to only see the woman’s back, sitting for hours on end at her desk. God knows what nonsense she gets up to sitting there all day. Probably doing someone’s accounts. That’s what people who work from home do mostly. These modern people, don’t know what real work is. I’m sure it’s all fast food in that house. Fast food, television and nakedness.

There she is, looking for something in the mess. Ah, those must be pyjamas what with all those stripes. At least it’s pyjamas. No bra on, so yes, must be pyjamas. Oh, she’s just spotted me. It’s alright, though. I’m facing slightly to my left. She’s a good fifty metres away, so she can’t possibly see that I’m looking straight at her.

She’s gone back to her desk now, with the screen covering everything but the top of her head. She’ll be there for hours now, doing someone’s accounts. From time to time, she straightens up and I can see her silly face. What on earth is she laughing at? She can’t be doing someone’s accounts, can she? They’re not funny. Maybe she’s in one of those meetings that people do on a computer, talking about accounts.

She’s sunk down again behind her screen, back at those accounts for someone. I’ve been here a while. Time to go and do some ironing in front of Cristina and Cláudio. I’ll be back later for some more fresh air. Upa, there’s the phone… it’s probably Dona Perpétua with news about those strange people she has living upstairs from her.

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*disclaimer from me*

the stupid translucent windows were here when Luís bought the place, shortly before I parachuted into his peace and quiet. We have never removed them because we still haven’t decided if we’re staying… seven years on.