Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Won't you be my neighbour?

Today is hot dog day, tomorrow is a holiday and this weekend we're going camping. This is shaping up to be a nice little week here. I'm trying to focus on the positive and ignore this thumping headache that's radiating from my forehead all the way down the back of my neck. I think it's from a lack of sleep because last night our downstairs neighbour was watching Coronation Street, or Matlock, or whatever it is that old people watch, and the volume was cranked loud enough that we could follow the show's plot from the comfort of our bed. Even though I was intrigued by Eduardo's evil scheme and desperately wanted to find out which guy Kathy was going to choose, I was more concerned with getting some rest since it was well after midnight. I tried to divert my anger into postive sleeping energy, but that wasn't happening.

Sleep wasn't coming and my mind began to wander, as it often does. Our downstairs neighbour has never been one to crank the volume on anything, he's just an old guy who lives alone and keeps to himself. There had to be a reason why he's doing this - revenge on us for partying too loud on the weekends? His hearing is finally failing him and he doesn't realize the volume is maxed out? He wants us to come knock on his door because he's lonely and just wants someone to talk to? He's subletting his apartment to some inconsiderate old woman? He's got an inconsiderate old woman girlfriend who likes to watch TV after old people sex? He's experimenting with being nocturnal? No...he's DEAD and he's had the TV on all day and he's sitting in there DEAD and there's nobody that knows he's DEAD because he lives alone and we should probably call the police and tell them that he's DEAD! I started to feel bad for being angry at our poor, dead neighbour. He was just a sweet old man who wanted to enjoy some afternoon television when he was ambushed by the grim reaper. I could picture him sitting peacefully in his armchair, wrapped snugly in a brown terrycloth robe, legs crossed, fingers gripped stiffly around the remote, head cocked slightly to the left, eyes wide, still gazing toward the TV. And then all of a sudden the TV turned off, I realized he was very much alive and just being an ass by watching TV loudly after midnight and I hated him again.

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