Moving to a smaller community - and a close-knit neighborhood within that community, to boot - has enhanced our natural nosiness.
I've always been nosy - hopefully not in a mean way, but in a hey-what's-going-on? kind of way. I think part of it is innate, and part stems from my first jobs in intensive care units. There, if you didn't know what was going on, you would get slammed - out of the blue - when the kid down the hall suddenly went south. So, protective mechanism? Inheritance from my mother? However it developed, I think living here has made me nosier than before.
And it's affected my dear husband, N, as well. Poor man...he lived a quiet life before he met me. Now? Well, last night, we heard car doors slamming. No big deal, right? Except that in our lovely, quiet neighborhood, hearing car doors at 7 pm on a Monday night - over spring break, no less - is cause for an investigation. So there he was, peering through the blinds in the family room, trying desperately to see what was going on next door. And every time we heard more noises, there he was again. I think the dog thought we were nuts. Completely nuts.
We speculate as we walk through the neighborhood - who lives here? Do they have kids? Where does she work again? For the new people...where do you think they lived before? What do you think they're doing now?
It's not meanspirited, not in any sense, but it does make me laugh. We've turned into the Mrs. Kravitzes (sp?) of the neighborhood.