Another dark and humid morning. Outside my window the dog owner who lives three doors down, who appears to have rolled straight out of bed, is standing in front of my house half-naked and half-asleep, watching his tiny pet bustle around at the end of a leash. I am still not used to having neighbors so close, but yesterday I did have a charming interaction with a man who was riding his bike slowly up my road.

"Good job!" he shouted at me, as I was wrestling the reel mower through the rain-fat grass.

He then halted his bike and introduced himself by name, street address, and number of children. Then he explained, "I talk to all United States women and men to improve my English."

I assured him that I would be delighted to talk to him any time he happened to ride by. We beamed at each other, shook hands, and he went on his way.