On Thanksgiving morning, a neighbor knocked on the door of another neighbor. She was holding four red folding chairs.

"Read the blog. You gotta read the blog," she said. "And here are some chairs for your party."

I am paraphrasing. But I think I’m close. When I spoke to my neighbor downstairs, the one who was having 14 guest over for Thanksgiving, we had this conversation:

"I haven’t read the blog yet: It’s been so hectic around here," she said. "What did you say?"

"I said you needed chairs because the number of your Thanksgiving guests exceeded the number of chairs in your apartment," I told her. I also assured her that nothing too personal about her had been blabbed or blogged to the world. But then I remembered thepart about the hat.

"I also mentioned the thing about you wearing a woolen hat while you cook (instead of a hair net) because you’re so nervous about people finding hair in your food," I said nervously.

"And I was wearing the wool hat when she came by with the chairs. She said, ‘You really are wearing a hat.’"

I wondered for a minute if I had crossed some kind of boundary by blogging about the green wool hat, the red chairs.

But she said she didn’t mind about the wool hat. And she really needed the chairs.