Nowadays the changing table is right underneath the window so I stare into their kitchen often and fantasize I've killed them and bought their house. Don't worry, I'm not post-partum psycho (about this). Wanting them dead so we can buy their house is par for the course for anyone in the Cali real estate market. I wouldn't really kill them. Who would loan us gardening tools if I did?
The Hub wants to put that plastic white window film over the view so we can get light, but have privacy. I strongly vetoed that course of action for the simple reason that no privacy was needed. Having our neighbors see our raggedy asses changing Baby Flails-a-lot occurs as not really my problem. I look at us all the time and I only notice now if we're clean. Besides, what does Baby Flails-a-lot care? She only learned to focus her eyes last week. She has no opinions on public nudity. (Which is good 'cause it can take up to three people to bathe her -- imagine baby limbs EVERYWHERE. It's like bathing a squid.)
I watch their cooking and I think, we should cook more. Their websurfing (or working) makes me think we need to get out more and sit up straight. I see their pastiness and wonder, am I vitamin D deficient? What do all these stalking inspired musings have in common? They have nothing to do with baby bodily functions. They are thoughts outside of the cocoon we are just now starting to venture out of. Our neighbors' existence reminds me that there is a world out there that I will be joining more and more as time goes on.
So looking in your neighbors windows is always a good idea, someday you just might see this…