A Touch of Heaven

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He’s there again, my new neighbor, the guy who’s house-sitting next door for the Johnsons. At least I think he’s house-sitting. I can’t remember them mentioning him before they went away.

I wonder if they knew he likes sunbathing naked when they asked him to mind the house for them.

Yes, naked. Starkers. In the buff. Not wearing a stitch. There he is on the lawn again on his tatty old blanket. Stretched out in the sun, exactly as the good Lord intended.

And speaking of the good Lord, thank you, God, for giving this old bird a treat.

This is the third day in a row that he’s been out there, and the third day I’ve sneakily watched him from my balcony. Does he know I’m spying on him? He certainly doesn’t give any indication. But then again, all he seems to do is sleep. He worships the sun for hours on end, and somehow he never seems to get burned. His skin always looks golden, beautiful and smooth, not the slightest bit red.

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