I want to begin by saying I am calm. I have been calm since Tuesday at 4:50 p.m., which is when the skeleton arrived.
My neighbor, a man I have waved to for nine years and whose lawn I would describe as “enthusiastic,” erected an inflatable skeleton in his front yard on Tuesday. It is 12 feet tall. It is lit from within by a small, steady light the color of a hospital hallway. It has one arm raised, in what I would call a greeting, and it is facing my house.
It is not the skeleton. I do not mind a skeleton. I mind THE DIRECTION.
I have lived in this house for 24 years. For 24 years, my neighbor’s decorations have faced the street, where decorations belong. A wreath faces the street. A flag faces the street. A snowman, in 2016, faced the street so firmly that a delivery driver waved at it. There is a convention. The convention is that a thing in a yard looks out, at the world, which is to say at everyone, and not at ONE HOUSE.
I walked across the street on Wednesday morning, politely, in my robe, and asked my neighbor whether the skeleton might be rotated. He said it was “tethered.” I asked to what. He said “the lawn.” I asked whether the lawn could be rotated. He said “no,” and then he said it was “supposed to be looking at the street, but the wind turned it.” I looked at the flag. The flag was facing the street. The wind had not turned the flag.
I want to be fair to the skeleton. It has done nothing wrong. It is a bag of air with a good attitude. It inflates at 6 p.m., it deflates at 11, and for those five hours it waves at me in my own kitchen, and I wave back, because I am a person who waves back, and then I remember that I am waving at a bag of air, AT MY OWN KITCHEN SINK, WHILE MY DINNER GOES COLD.
I apologize. That was louder than I intended. I am calm.
For perspective, I reached Dr. Marjorie Teller, director of the Center for Measured Outcomes, who told me that her team has studied the orientation of lawn decorations since 2014. “Of the 4,118 inflatables we’ve tracked, 97.2 percent face the street,” Teller said. “The remaining 2.8 percent face a specific house. In every case, the house knew.” I asked her how it knew. She said, “It always knows.”
I have not slept well. I have raised the kitchen shade and lowered it. I have raised it and lowered it. At 11:02 p.m., when the skeleton collapses, I am relieved, and then, at 6 p.m., it rises, and I am not.
So here is my proposal, and I think you will find it modest. I propose that every inflatable in the nation be required, by law, to face the street, and that each be fitted with a small plaque reading “I AM FACING THE STREET.” That is all. It is a very small plaque. I have drawn one up.
In the meantime, I have found a workaround. I have turned my kitchen table 90 degrees, so that I eat facing the refrigerator. It is not ideal. The refrigerator does not wave. But it has never once pretended not to see me.
My blood pressure on Monday was 143 over 94. Last week it was 141 over 93. My doctor says this is “something to keep an eye on.” I do not need to be told to keep an eye on things. I have been keeping an eye on a skeleton since Tuesday, and it has been keeping one on me.