There’s half an avocado on five squares of paper towel on my kitchen table.
My kitchen table is sitting over a carpet with a few caked in pieces of Trader Joe’s Reduced Fat Multigrain pita chips, a bobby pin (hair clip?), and three CVS receipts the length of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
My carpet is sitting over a floor that must be wood because I’ve seen other apartments with the wood floors--waxed--but mine has invariably been marinating for many moons under the now stained and chip flecked carpet.
Under the wood floor, I guess, is the ceiling of my downstairs neighbor. He’s pretty hostile. To me, to other people, to himself. He slammed the door behind him one day before proceeding to dart like a marathon runner to the neighborhood liquor store, manned by a gentle giant residing adjacent to hostile downstairs neighbor. His gentleness escapes from him, however, on football nights, and football Sunday.Yes, my neighbor owns the liquor store. No, it’s done nothing for me. Well I did buy a wine opener that broke almost immediately after using it.
As for HDN (acronoym for Hostile Downstairs Neighbor)...well.. I did a few jump squats (Jillian Michaels...ya know) this AM and I think it made HDN pretty pissed. He took a broom or his fist (are his arms long enough for that?) and pounded on his ceiling, which is below the wood panels of architectureyness, which is below the wood floor I want but can’t have which is below the carpet below the table, and below the now overripe avocado etc etc.
I’m just here at my desk rambling in hopes to stay awake.
Because in addition to tumbling I ramble.