But I do have a neighbour.
You see like every good neighbour with an extra-large bank of windows, we actually spy on each other. L.B. Jefferies would have been proud.
From what I can tell from my incessant voyeurism ( no binoculars though ), I know that Window Boy is single, takes care of his ailing dad and works in construction. We both share similarly erratic hours so we only see each other in the few moments before we leave for work. Do the usual nod of greeting. Usually he gets up to twist his arms to get the kinks out while gazing at the indigo morning sky - even as I'm flipping through the radio channels for the morning news while the car gets the obligatory warm-up before zooming off for work.
Only late in the night those few hours before sleep that I manage to catch him at his window again. Boy lives in a spartan room with bare essentials - a far cry from my own. Have't caught him striking a spartan pose yet - though I admit I'm curious what lifting bricks has done for him. Window Boy doesn't seem to have much of a hobby though since I usually see him walking aimlessly around the room without any seeming purpose.
Funny how people form the most erroneous impressions from a glance at the window though.
Sees me in my room busy tapping through my laptop while glancing through the several open books on my bed. While he was thinking I'm the overworked idiot savante busy searching for the cure to the common cold, I'm probably concentrating on an imaginary life where I save the world by choosing to boff either Chris Evans or Zac Efron. Hard choices to make.
Certainly a disillusionment for Window Boy.