Our new neighbors

We have some new Chinese neighbors. They live one floor down, directly opposite from us. Our building is shaped like a "U", so when we look through the kitchen or living room windows, we can see their apartment.

Because of the shape of the building, we can see a lot of apartments. It is no big deal really. Most people have blinds or shutters. Ocassionally we see the gay couple a few floors down in their slippers making breakfast in what looks to be one hell of a nice kitchen. And there is the old man who stays up each night - well into the wee hours of the morning - sitting among piles of papers with his back to the window and only one light on beside him, pouring over newspapers. But other than that, the building is really very tame. Nothing much interesting is visible through the windows - not until the new neighbors arrived at least.

The new neighbors first gave us pause when we noticed that they have no blinds or curtains in their bedroom. I awoke one morning, took a look out the kitchen window and found myself gazing upon a queen size bed covered in blood red sheets with a white comforter tossed haphazardly at the bed's edge, suggesting someone had just awoke. Well, I thought, they probably just moved in and don't yet have sheets. I chuckled to myself, mentioned it to Edward, mostly just to note the choice in sheet color, and assumed that would be the end of that.

Well, never assume anything when it comes to NYC living. Not long thereafter, I came home and Edward informed me that he had witnessed the bed occupied - by two Asian women! I looked out. Still no curtain on the window. The bed was in full view - now empty. Okay, I thought, so I guess we have some lesbian exhibitionists to shake up the wealthy retirees who make up most of the buildings residents. This should be entertaining. Only a couple days later, however, while standing at the stove, I saw an Asian man in the bed (!) - lounging sans shirt. I waited a bit to see if anyone else would come into the bedroom. No one did. I could make out the flicker of a TV screen, hidden outside my view, that he aparently was watching while lying in bed, so absorbed as to be completely oblivious to the neighbor one floor up staring gape-eyed at him. Hmmm, I thought, now the lesbians are having male friends over, friends who lounge half dressed on an unmade bed? This just keeps getting better. I relayed details of the new development to Edward. He agreed that the situation was becoming more and more intriguing.

A few days elapsed. And again, I found myself in the kitchen one evening, looking out the window. The bedroom light was on, the bed in clear view, this time made up and with no sign of the red sheets that had first drawn my eye. They changed the sheets, I told Edward. The red ones are gone.

I found out who they are, he replied, clearly satisfied with his sleuthing. I saw them come into the building today...

What - did you follow them? How do you know it was them anyway?

Oh, I knew. I could tell. I asked Jason (the doorman) if they lived on the 8th floor and had recently moved in. He said yeah - they are siblings - two sisters and a brother. I don't think Jason has any idea how they are living - like that, all together.

So much for my brothel hypothesis, I mused. I was enjoying letting my imagination run with that one...

Yeah, well, maybe they live like that in China - all in one room - but not here, not in America, Edward remarked.

Not on Madison Avenue, I thought to myself.

Since then, we have not learned any more about our new neighbors, though we recently caught a glipse of the sisters running about in only their underwear. I think we already know too much.

Good Lawyer or Good Life

Edward asked me recently who at the office I consider a hero - who I look up to and aspire to be like. It was a question that gave me pause. For when I stopped to think about it, there was no one really I could think of. Sure, there are people I respect on a professional level- people who are better lawyers that I could ever hope to be - who will pour tirelessly over case law and codes in search of that one footnote that provides the missing link in their argument; that read and reread each document they prepare, finding each typo and gramatical flaw before anyone else does; who argue endlessly over inane details to further their client's cause. That's not me. That will never be me. Sure, I want to be a good lawyer. But I want more than that. And from what I see at the office, being a great lawyer seems to mean not being able to have much more in your life than work. Frankly,I would rather be an average lawyer and have a full life than be an excellent lawyer and have only my work.