see the problem with reading so much and having an overactive imagination is that, well... you have an overactive imagination and millions of stories to feed it.
you probably know by now that i live in an apartment (that i simultaneously love and hate with all my heart). you may or may not know that i live on the top floor and therefore do not have to deal with things like heavy-footed dancing elephant owners marching on my head day in and day out, which is good because the thin walls/floors/whatever is a common complaint i hear about the apartments i live in. the only time i was really, seriously annoyed by it, though, was when my neighbor bought a new puppy and it barked all. day. long. and all night, too. but i digress. occasionally, i will hear banging from the apartment below us. i never pay any attention to it and rarely even notice it anymore, but the other night i did.
i had just finished my nightly ritual of checking on my clan and playing candy crush when i heard banging, like someone hammering a nail into the wall or knocking really loudly. my mind immediately supplied me with the scene from room (if you haven't read this, then i highly recommend it) where the kidnapped lady and her son stand on her bed and scream at the top of their lungs (the kid thinks it's a game) to try and get someone to notice and rescue them. she also used to turn the lights on and off in the middle of the night to try and get attention. suddenly, i was sure that there was someone trapped in the apartment below me. of course, you can't really do much when all your evidence of a wrongdoing is that it kindasortamaybe reminds you of something that happened in a book. (and that got me to thinking about all the times that people do normal things as a cry for help that are ignored because, well, you're not just going to try and get every person you see arrested on the off-chance that something bad is going on.)
around thanksgiving, there was a watermelon with a small triangle cut out of it left outside of the door of this same apartment. for a month. it was really, really weird. and because i am kind of a creeper, here is a picture of it (cropped in case there are potential stalkers reading this):
you probably know by now that i live in an apartment (that i simultaneously love and hate with all my heart). you may or may not know that i live on the top floor and therefore do not have to deal with things like heavy-footed dancing elephant owners marching on my head day in and day out, which is good because the thin walls/floors/whatever is a common complaint i hear about the apartments i live in. the only time i was really, seriously annoyed by it, though, was when my neighbor bought a new puppy and it barked all. day. long. and all night, too. but i digress. occasionally, i will hear banging from the apartment below us. i never pay any attention to it and rarely even notice it anymore, but the other night i did.
i had just finished my nightly ritual of checking on my clan and playing candy crush when i heard banging, like someone hammering a nail into the wall or knocking really loudly. my mind immediately supplied me with the scene from room (if you haven't read this, then i highly recommend it) where the kidnapped lady and her son stand on her bed and scream at the top of their lungs (the kid thinks it's a game) to try and get someone to notice and rescue them. she also used to turn the lights on and off in the middle of the night to try and get attention. suddenly, i was sure that there was someone trapped in the apartment below me. of course, you can't really do much when all your evidence of a wrongdoing is that it kindasortamaybe reminds you of something that happened in a book. (and that got me to thinking about all the times that people do normal things as a cry for help that are ignored because, well, you're not just going to try and get every person you see arrested on the off-chance that something bad is going on.)
around thanksgiving, there was a watermelon with a small triangle cut out of it left outside of the door of this same apartment. for a month. it was really, really weird. and because i am kind of a creeper, here is a picture of it (cropped in case there are potential stalkers reading this):
it was just there. day after day, week after week. and then one day, it wasn't.
after the bang in the night that set off my imagination, i realized that there must have been a message for help hidden in there and the kidnapper realized that and took it away i totally missed my chance to save my neighbor and/or her victim. (except, i really didn't miss anything. i peeked into that watermelon as i passed it every single day and watched as it slowly rotted and bugs started to live in it.)
anyway.
neighbor, if you'reading this, i'm sorry i'm creepy and took a picture of your watermelon, but you have to understand, it was really weird. (i also have one taken three weeks after this. i'm sorry for that one too.) i'm also sorry if you are being held captive and i am blogging about it instead of helping.
kidnapper (hopefully you are not my neighbor because if you are then you put on a very friendly and considerate facade and you are actually my favorite in the building and i'd hate for my favorite neighbor to be evil), if you are reading this then you should know that i'm totally on to you. also, you make really bad choices in places to keep your victims. thin walls, dude. unless you chose this place precisely for that reason because you know that people will just write off any weird noises to normal life. in which case, you're really smart and kinda scary.
readers, i haven't slept in a while (which is why i'm choosing to stick with that line for the title even though i'm sure another line in the song could be better. i'm just too lazy to google the lyrics and this popped in my head, and well, there you have it). we (my husband and i) are thinking of buying and moving to our first house and good god is this stressful. (i'm probably making it even more stressful than it has to be because that is what i do.) i was doing really well with the blogging regularly thing for a while, too. i was going to write an entire post about this whole house thing, but then i decided not to. this little note is the compromise.
*Kristy, Are You Doing Okay? - The Offspring
No comments:
Post a Comment