Running

Ted is a runner. My father is a runner so the activity is nothing unusual to me, however it’s his choice of times that always throws me. It’s never in the morning or after work, but usually in the middle of the night. I’m a light sleeper, a breeze wakes me and keeps me up, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen him out running at 3:00am. And he keeps what seems to be a normal working schedule.

Did I mention that he’s a smoker? I think I did, but I don’t think I mentioned that he takes time out of his busy running schedule to break for a smoke. He then resumes running. Stop for another smoke… Run some more. I’ve actually asked him about this and have always gotten a shrug in response. I don’t want to ask too much since he also tosses his cigarette butts into a large planter on his porch that contains nothing but cigarette butts. And that kind of scares me. You should see the runoff when it rains since it’s never emptied. I don’t want that planter, or its contents, to end up on my lawn one night at 3:05.

The good neighbor