Midwestern widower needs to move somewhere with better sight lines.

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“During college it was the best,” reminisced Dayton Cummings, “I lived across the street from a sorority house and they did not understand the concept of curtains. That was great!”

Then Cummings got married and moved to the suburbs. “Sometimes, when the sun was at a perfect angle, there was a retired librarian across the street who had an excercycle in her basement she’d ride in something tight. Times were tough, so I took what I could get.”

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Cummings’ wife died of breast cancer after a long fight. “She was a trooper. She wouldn’t ask for anything while I grabbed my binoculars to go for neighborhood walks. Sometimes I’d come back hours later and she’d have passed out in the hallway while I guess trying to herself some food or something.”

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Cummings has been trying to sell his house for a couple of years now, with no takers. “Maybe I should take down my telescope pointing at the neighbors’ bedroom when people visit. I could like point it to the stars or something pathetic like that instead.”