I’m not really Betty but…
Many years ago, a dear friend moved to another state and got married. Her new husband and his friends referred to their hometown as “the bubble.” Their entire lives took place within the bubble. To them, no other place on earth mattered.
At the time, those of us left behind snickered among ourselves about the bubble boys, how small their world was. After all, we operated within at least a three state radius and, unlike many of them, had traveled by air at least a dozen times.
Now, more than 20 years later, I find myself living in a bit of a bubble….and liking it. My bubble is somewhat larger than the bubble of those boys from the 80s. I travel several times a year for business, make occasional trips to Manhattan or road trips to neighboring states, but my day-to-day life is conducted basically within a three-town radius. I do have a full-time job, but I am fortunate enough to work from home.
Because I work from home, live in a large condo complex and have a dog that is walked several times a day, I tend to know everything that goes on here — and I have many opinions about it.
I wasn’t always like this. You see, the previous owner of my condo was a self-appointed, one-woman neighborhood watch. A senior citizen who spent endless hours spying on the neighbors, dictating who could park where, and promptly reporting violations of any condo rules to the association manager.
I don’t think this woman wanted to move from the condo, but her son felt it was time for managed care. No more than a month after I moved in, I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of faint but eerie moaning. Being in a new home, of course I was petrified. About two weeks later I learned that the old woman, Betty, had passed away.
Because Betty’s departure from this condo (and, I’m sure, this world) was reluctant, I’m convinced that a small part of Betty took possession of me that night.
Betty’s spirit of neighborhood “observation” now lives within me. I AM BETTY.