Neighbors

Neighbors provide an interesting segue into thinking about your own strange humanity. All of our neighbors are very strange. Very.

The girls below us have a tendency to play Amy Winehouse or Johnny Cash very loudly at least once a day. I have heard "ring of fire" through my floor for three days straight now.

The people next to them are a strange artist couple. Neither one of them is ever really fully dressed. The husband always wears a short-sleeved buttom-down shirt open over some kind of board shorts. His wife generally wears very short skirts or shorts and a tank top or bikini top. They often leave their door open and various smells come wafting out--curry, weed, whatever.

Finally there's the people next to us. They just moved in, and already they've glued a quarter and two pennies to the stairs leading up to our apartment.

I sometimes wonder whether LeAnne and I do anything strange in their eyes. We can't ever think of anything, which makes me think that we are either: 1. blind, or 2. very dull.