In my almost two years living in my current apartment, I've had several neighbors, both in my actual apartment and on the first floor. I've had two roommates (apparently living with your boyfriend is much cooler than living with me) and the first floor apartment has had three.
During this entire time, a married couple and their two sons have lived on the second floor, and while they're great, they're kind of not important to this story... so we won't go into them much.
The first few months, there was a cute family of four, but then they realized a small two bedroom apartment was no place for two kids, two parents, and a mother-in-law. So off they moved.
Then an awesome couple moved in. They were great. When my car got stuck in the snow, they'd push me out. They'd always say hello. Their parties were chill and didn't take up my parking spots in the driveway. In every way, they were sweet, kind people. Then they got sick of paying a lot of money to live in Massachusetts and with all the snow, so they moved to the south. Boo.
Then last month, my new neighbors moved in. I have seen them twice. The first time, I was coming home, and the man's mom was sweeping the front steps, and he panicked that he couldn't find her. As if I lived in a shit hole like Lynn, where if your mom went missing, she was probably kidnapped by gangs and sold for drugs. But this is a quiet neighborhood in Salem, and that's just not how we roll.
A few weeks later, I had just come back from a run and was bringing my recycling bin upstairs, and used it to prop the door open so I could grab my mail. The woman on the first floor flew out in a panic that I had fallen down the stairs and needed saving. I thanked her a few times, and assured her that I was only getting my mail. So up to this point, my thoughts were that they were panicky, probably from a rougher neighborhood, and thought their mom would wander off to Lynn. So moderately interesting, but nothing to write home about.
Until I drove home one day and saw the woman's car in the driveway, which advertises what she does.
She hosts erotic parties for women.
I noticed an ad on her car that discussed bringing the romance back to your life, and the hottest parties in town, and this peaked my interest. So I wrote down her website and took a gander. Not at all what I expected my first floor neighbor to do for a job. She sells and consults women who want to throw erotic parties. The woman who thought I fell down a flight of stairs could pick me up and then sell me whips, and lingerie, and toys. This all explains the big sign she put for UPS on her mailbox as well.
Marla has now become the neighbor to casually observe, it seems. I mean, do what you love, but I never in a million years thought "I bet my neighbors sell kinky shit". But oh they do.
Also, maybe I can get you a deal. You can tell her "I'm friends with the girl on the top floor".