For Years, My Neighbor’s 15-Minute Routine Drove Me Crazy. The Truth Was Hilariously Simple (2 of 2)

Now, I’m not a stalker. I work from home. My office window just happens to face their house. I don’t try to notice… but when someone’s driveway routine is tighter than a Swiss watch, you notice. And honestly? After ten years, my curiosity was eating me alive. What were they doing in there? Were they running a secret business? Practicing quick-change theater? Filming fifteen-minute cooking shows for YouTube?

Finally, last week, I cracked. Curiosity won.

Oscar’s car pulled in right on schedule. They went inside, the curtains drew shut — except one. The kitchen window was open just enough. And yes, I admit it: I tiptoed over and took a peek.

What I saw made me burst out laughing.

There they were — not running a crime ring, not hiding gold, not rehearsing some strange ritual — but wolfing down sandwiches like they were in a competitive eating contest. I’m talking full speed, elbows flying, chips scattered across the counter. Oscar had mustard on his shirt, Emma was double-fisting Oreos, and the way they were inhaling food, you’d think they hadn’t eaten since 1998.

And then it clicked. Their whole “mystery ritual” wasn’t a cover for anything scandalous. It was just… lunch. A late lunch, every day at 4 p.m., eaten in total privacy like it was their guilty little secret.

I must’ve made a noise because Oscar glanced up, spotted me half-hanging by their window, and froze with a pickle halfway to his mouth. Our eyes locked. Time stopped. And then, in one swift motion, he yanked the curtain shut — pickle still in hand.

The next day? Same thing. 4 p.m. sharp. Driveway. Curtains. But now, every time I see them, I can’t stop imagining them in there shoveling sandwiches like fugitives on a snack break.

So yeah, for ten years I thought I was living next door to some deep, mysterious secret. Turns out my neighbors are just two people who take their snack time very, very seriously.

Honestly? Respect.