After many years of living in a three-story apartment, I have come to recognize the considerable advantages of residing on the topmost floor versus a lower floor. Yesterday I taped the following message to the door of my downstairs neighbor in apartment 201. He works in construction and is more often out of state than home. I guess he’s gone right now, so he’ll read my note whenever he reads it. He’s a quiet, decent sort of guy and a good neighbor when he’s around, a sentiment which, living directly below me, he may not reciprocate. I’ll find out when he gets around to calling me and will hope that he feels inclined to see the humor in the situation rather than punch me in the snoot.
Meanwhile, I suppose I’d better get another roll of quarters so Lisa and I can do our laundry.
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Dear Steve,
Greetings! This is from Bob, your neighbor in #301 directly above you.
If you go out on your balcony, you will notice a roll of quarters—or what once was a whole roll of quarters—distributed about the deck, courtesy of me.
I got the quarters as laundry change when I went shopping at the D&W earlier today. This afternoon, as I was heading toward my car to run errands and then go to my evening gig, I realized that I still had the roll in my pocket. Thinking that Lisa might want to do her laundry and not wishing to trudge back up the stairs, I called her to the balcony with the intention of throwing the roll up to her.
Lisa told me not to—she didn’t want to catch it. Fine, I said, step aside and I’ll just throw the roll through the open door into our living room. It seemed like a good idea.
No need to mention that I have a terrible throwing arm, as I’m sure you have figured that out. My roll of quarters landed one floor too low, hitting your door and blowing apart on impact, scattering quarters like shrapnel. You now have all the laundry money your heart could ask for strewn about your balcony. But I would really like to reclaim at least some of it if I can.
While I’m at it, I’ll also mention the small blotch of grease on the rail of your balcony. That too comes from me. With the arrival of warm weather, the suet that I had put out for the woodpeckers this winter began to melt. By the time I grabbed it this morning to throw it away, it had turned into a nasty, icky pile of goo, and I noticed that some of it had dripped down onto your rail. It’s not a lot, but it’s my mess and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. Since I had already planned to knock on your door and offer to clean it up, I’ll do so here.
You must love living below us. It certainly packs a lot of entertainment value. I hope your new drywall is looking snappy and serving you well after that little incident with our leaky kitchen pipe a few months ago.
But back to the quarters: In trying to save myself a few seconds, I screwed up in a way that has eaten up a good 45 minutes. Have I learned my lesson? Probably not, but no matter. Grab a few quarters for your troubles, Steve. But if I can reclaim some of them, Lisa and I would both like to do our laundry. Call me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx and let me know when you’re around, or just give a knock on the door. I’ll clean up the grease while we’re at it.
Thanks,
Your wonderful neighbor in #301,
Bob