Monday, November 14, 2005
'Dja ever walk around putting more mental energy than is necessary into a thing?
This suitcase has been at the base of my neighbor's driveway since Friday afternoon. Just sitting there, no one has come or gone. It's bothering me the way shoes in the street bother me: what's the story behind them?
I am worrying about that luggage, and about my neighbors, whom I have never met. I imagine them having set about a long trip, and placed this piece of luggage on the top of the car, while they arrange the rest in the trunk. OFF to O'Hare airport in Chicago they go, joyously looking forward to their vacation in the Bahamas, or their honeymoon at Niagara Falls. With traffic, three hours before they arrange themselves in long-term parking, and find themselves perplexed: Where is the big suitcase? Where are our underpants?!!
I want to run over there and unzip just a bit and peek! Maybe there's ID in there, and I can call the owner—no money for me, please, solving the mystery is reward enough.
But, as I said, I don't know the people that belong to that driveway, and I don't want to appear the crazy screw-loose neighbor [and steal CJ's thunder], should I approach the thing and give it a tap with my toe.
Instead I'll just blog about it.