Mysteries unsolved

Like the oft described old woman who provides the final clue to solve the frustrated cop's murder mystery, I peruse my neighbors' houses along the street at least once a day. But unlike mystery solutions, I lack the ability to intrude in their lives as a detective with an astute mind to learn their life histories. I need help to round out my brief observations. I am not the type cast recluse peeking through blinds for hours on end. Therefore, information must be filled in over the fence with facts by others with different social experiences than I possess.
And I find the drama to be boundless. Recovered alcoholics, drug manufacturers, divorced women, abandoned babies, working couples, teen agers and gregarious friends on a Saturday night, are most easily recalled. Renters and others not in the police band of my most discerning neighbor have evaded my repertoire.
So with all this why do I read so much fiction? For one thing the fictitious plots verify what my observations show – life is indeed stranger than fiction. Interesting to think of the dialog within the walls of those houses. But if I contemplate the lives of others, do they contemplate mine? In their views what do I do?
If I put myself in their thoughts I could come up with many scenarios -- mysterious, erotic, intriguing, dangerous, romantic, disgusting, exciting. My life is all of those, if not in reality, at least between the covers of books I choose. I will write down the lives around me and come up with a best seller.
Why didn't I think of that before?
Naomi Sherer