Honey, I'm home!

The story about my neighbours continues. As you might remember, the lady from next door was visiting me during an Easter dinner I had for my friends. She forgot her pasha mould here, which became a reason for me to visit them (one can argue wether or not she left it on purpose). I was a bit afraid of returning it since I didn’t know wether her husband knew that she was visiting me or not. What would I say if her husband opened the door and I’ve got her “forgotten” pasha mould in my hand? So, it wasn’t until a week ago that I returned it, and the trigger for me returning it is a story worth telling.

Just over a week ago, I had got two letters by mail when I came home. None of the letters were addressed to me, but to some people somewhere else in the house. I immediately recognized the first surname, which was that of my lady neighbour. The other one was not familiar to me so I thought that I’d probably have to go and check every door to see where it belongs.

Looking more closely on the other letter, I see that the apartment number is that of my neighbours, the Easter lady with husband. For a second I thought that the sender must have written the wrong number, but after checking and double checking the surname with the name on the door, I was convinced that the letter indeed was addressed to the man in the house. There was only one tiny problem. His name was Honey.

I discarded the idea of a man being called Honey, so I thought that it was a joke or a nickname, but the letter seemed to come from some company and was really official looking. Accepting that a man might be called Honey (especially if he dresses in really tight jeans and a leopard skin jeans jacket), I decided to return the mould and ask them if this is really the case.

So, I knock on the door and pray that her husband wouldn’t open it. He didn’t. Instead the lady carefully opened the door about 10 cm and snatched the mould and letters from my hands with a “my husband has been waiting for this letter”, confirming that it indeed was his letter. I was hoping for a casual conversation about the weather, but instead she quickly thanked me and shut the door.

So, the mystery about the man called Honey was left unsolved. A couple of days later I was quite bored at work, and this oddity popped up in my head. Google is everyones friend, so I typed in his name hoping that the Google servers were having a good day. A few seconds later, I got my answer. The man is apparently an artist/writer/singer or something like that. At least he has played/is playing in a band, which might explain the name. It just has to be a stage name. What his real name is is unfortunately still a big questionmark.


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Filed under The thing they call Life

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