Yesterday, I wrote this imaginary email:
Dear Residents of Ellery St. Apt. 3, On the Occasion of Katherine's Day Off and Attempted Afternoon Nap:
Congratulations on the purchase your new positive-gravity boots. No seriously, congratulations.
Love,
Katherine
P.S. That was clever of you to attach the boots to your furniture before rearranging it.
Then, I realized that the horrible thumping/scraping sounds had represented someone moving in or out; there was a van in front of the house, and a door propped open, and futons all over the sidewalk. Okay.
Tonight, I had the occasion to think the following thoughts:
Good lord, who rings the doorbell for that long of a time? Maybe it’s an emergency?
No, that looks like the guy from upstairs. Wait, your name is Damien? I totally thought it was Elliot. I can’t admit that though, because I just gave you a funny look when you said you thought I was Adrienne.
Yeah, bummer that you locked yourself out. You DO know there’s not like, a secret staircase between my apartment and yours though, right? And I don’t have spare keys to your door, so I really don’t see why you’re telling me this story about the locking-out…
Wait, what? You— you got a ladder. From the girls on the 1st floor. Good for you? Oh, you want to— oh are you serious. Sure, sure I think it’s a clever idea, climbing up to your porch from mine. Cool, yeah bring up the ladder. You realize I am not going to help you or in any way attempt to interfere should you start to dangle off any part of the house? All right then.
Oh, you’re coming back with the ladder? Yeah, no I’m not going to wait by the door. No, you can ring the bell again when you’re back; I’m actually in the middle of scratching the cat’s head, and OW he’s going to keep biting me until I get back to that.
…[10 minutes go by]…
I know that ring; yes, hi. What? It’s still Katherine. No, that makes sense that you wouldn’t remember my name from that first time we met… or from 10 minutes ago. Or remember me pointing to my name, written on the door, when you suggested hopefully that I was in fact Adrienne. OW, ow. No, that didn’t really hurt when you hit my leg with the ladder. No, I’m fine. The porch? Is in the same location that it is in your apartment. Yeah, through the kitchen. Thank you, I also think our kitchen looks nice. Yes, I would expect that it does look like yours. That’s a pretty big ladder; do you want me to hold it while you climb? Are you sure? Oops, stay here, Icky. No, Icky, it’s like 400° outside, stay here. Fine, I’ll hold you. Wow, he pulled himself up onto his porch really quickly for such a big guy. He didn’t pull the ladder after him, though. Huh.
Oh. I definitely know that doorbell ring. Hi again! Yeah, you know the way. Please be careful of the— yeah, I can see how that would be unwieldy. OW. OUCH. Icky, seriously? You intently watch me vacuum all the time, but you’re terrified of a ladder? It’s inanimate! Well, not now, I guess. Now it’s careening between various walls and pieces of furniture in our house. OW THAT HURT A LOT! No not the ladder this time; the cat is freaking out, while located in the vicinity of my shoulder and neck.
At least the scratches on my collarbone are all parallel. I’ll just hold my hand on them to discourage bleeding while I say goodbye to Damien/Elliot. Or… not. I guess it is kind of old-fashioned to say thank you and goodbye after a neighbor has helped you break into your own apartment.
Well, Icky. Looks like it’s just you and me then. Ow.
