I don’t like my neighbors. On one side of me is a married couple a little older than Swedish Girl and me. On the other side of me is a man? A woman? One of each? I have no idea, as their shades and blinds are always closed and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them. They/he/she is (are?) quiet, so that’s good. The pricks on the floor above me are loud. I swear on one Sunday morning a few weeks ago, it sounded as if they had some friends over and were bowling with both bowling balls and each other. These neighbors were kind enough to rip up their wall-to-wall carpeting some time ago, so we can hear every footstep, every dropped beer bottle, and every bowled ball or human. The old lady across the hall is quiet, but I get the feeling she’s keeping an eye on my comings and goings through her peep hole.
It’s mostly the married couple next door that bug me. Just this morning, they were leaving their apartment just as I was leaving mine. The wife went out of her way to ignore me. The husband and I exchanged cordial good mornings, but then he let the outer door slam on me moments later. Lovely. His wife apparently thinks I’m a serial rapist or something, because other times that I’ve held the door for her, she’s dashed through with nary a ‘thank you’ or a nod. I have come to the conclusion that, contrary to the typical fiber of my being, I’m going to turn up the faux charm and really kill that couple with kindness.
There is one really friendly neighbor with whom I wish I shared a wall. I call him Detergent Guy because one late night as Swedish Girl and I were watching TV in our pajamas, he loudly knocked on our door. It was such a forceful knock, that we thought the RA was coming to bust us for something. Turns out, he was drunk and doing some laundry, but he couldn’t carry everything and spilled laundry detergent on our door and floor mat. Since then, he’s been cool with us. I hope that event (and subsequent hallway exchanges of pleasantries) helped erase the image in his mind of Cool Jesus as slayer of old ladies.
But that’s a tale for tomorrow…
Was the chemical spill on your door mat of the liquid or powder kind?
Liquid, dude.