I have laundry facilities in the basement of the apartment building where I’m now living. At 8 a.m., I thought I was getting an early start but there was Eve down there in the laundry room sitting at a table reading a book. I thought it could have been a Bible, but wasn’t sure. She eyeballed my two trash bags of dirty clothes.  

The neighbors I have now are no doubt the friendliest, most interesting and, well, neighborly street-mates I’ve ever encountered. So why do I sometimes find myself avoiding them, or any potential friends for that matter? The concept of neighborhood etiquette (and previously, dorm life) is totally lost on me.  

I moved to Westwood this past spring, and I like it just fine. That feeling didn't change on Sept. 14, when the electric power went off. As of this writing, it's still off. I guess we have Hurricane Ike to thank.