Today I decided that I would write a bit each day about the shenanigans of my (sometimes quirky but always entertaining) neighbors.

I live in an apartment complex with 4 story units, I'm between 2 floors and also share common walls with 3 apartments so I hear a lot from "interesting" neighbors.

Before I begin though, I would like to introduce you to my pussy. My pussy is very big, strong, and agile, built like a tank. He is a very friendly tabby cat named Thomas as is well appropriate for a tom cat. Tom, was a no-brainer name.

Let me start with my upstairs neighbor first, because I hear more from, and interact with them most. The ceiling in my flat conducts sound annoyingly (sometimes scandalously) well. The bathroom is the worst followed by the bedroom. I'm guessing the smaller the room, the more I hear from the upstairs. 

So my first encounter with "Daisy" (I'll call her Daisy because of her tattoo) was in move-in day. 

I caught her with a box in one arm and a lamp in the other, trying to open the door while on the way to check my mail. So holding the door for her I said good morning, and returning from the mailbox, meeting her again while exiting for the next load of household goods, she promptly held out her hand and introduced herself, announcing that she was moving in on the next floor (above me as it turned out). When I reached out to shake her hand, I notices a beautifully done tattoo on her right wrist emulating a bracelet which I shyly commented on. Swiftly she held it up for display, obviously pleased with the piece. It had a heart, a crescent, a daisy, a star, and two linked female symbols at the spot which is immediately prominent at the position of a hand shake. Well... that is a clever way of making a point. I immediately became self conscious wondering where her girlfriend was and was there going to be drama because I'm being neighborly with Daisy. Looking around toward the truck, I see.... nobody. Feeling like an idiot, but not a big enough idiot yet, I ask if she has anyone to help her move her stuff into her new place. "Nope, just little ole me" Replies the 6+ft blond (clever or coincidence; not sure). I asked her about her accent and had guessed right that she was from Tennessee, and literally, is a coal miners daughter. So I found myself volunteered to donate my afternoon to climbing stairs with...everything. But it WAS FUN. She's got one of the winningest ways about her as I've ever met. We worked hard, had a ball, had lunch and dinner and watched the local news at my place while I filled her in on what was where in town. We became good friends right away. I asked her if she wanted a helper for the next day getting things settled and invited her for breakfast since; no food yet, and most of the kitchen stuff still in boxes.

Next morning I'm awoke by a knock. OMG, I overslept! I'm so embarrassed. Without missing a beat, she tells me get dressed and we are having McDonalds for breakfast. I grab a $10 and shove into her hand and she skips out the door. McDonalds for breakfast? Seriously? As we're eating our McBreakfast, we're chatting and I find out a few things. I made the mistake of asking if she had family in the area. First, it turns out that she used to drive a tractor-trailer till her husband and son were killed in a wreck involving a semi on ice. She had a really rough time and couldn't deal with driving a rig any more because of the constant reminder of her family. Second, that she turned to drinking to avoid the pain of the loss and more drinking following the job loss. Third, I found that she is a very tender girl and I needed to buy more Kleenex tissues by the time she finished her story. The utility guy arriving to connect service came to the rescue and got us back on track with apartment settling and off of the sadness. I have seen her have a rough time at other times since. Children's day, Father's, Mother's, Christmas, and their Birthdays are the hardest. By the end of the day and of my weekend, we had successfully got everything just right!! After Chinese takeout at her new abode, we had some wine to celebrate the accomplishment and christen the new place. I found out that my new friend sucked at scrabble (and she still does). The wine... Well, Daisy still drinks to have fun, but she doesn't drink to escape anymore. Way to go Daisy! You're a brave soul.  Our game was ended by a call from her girlfriend. Ah, so turns out there IS a girlfriend... I quickly say my good night and politely excuse myself. Morning is coming quickly anyways.

So four days later Daisy comes into our laundry room with hers while I'm folding. She apologizes for the scrabble interruption and awkward goodnight. She begins telling me about Girlfriend, who she met working at a gas station in a hole in-the-wall tinytown south of nowhere. I learned that Girlfriend became instrumental in pulling Daisy out of her depressed funk. I'll tell you about Ms. Arroyo later (everybody calls her "Girlie")

Cheers,

C.S.