Our days in our apartment are numbered. This is fantastic, but it’s hard not to look back on our first home with a little nostalgia.
Over the past two and a half years I like to think our neighbours have come to know us. We chat with a few frequenly – they know about our garden and cats. And then there are our other neighbours… The ones who likely hear us through the floor or walls. They see our messy deck and our strange windows full of plants. They must really wonder.
When I think about it, the things they would hear most often are the following:
“Get off the table!”
“Maddie you’re going to fall – don’t roll Maddie! Nooo whyyyy?!”
“That’s not what place-mats are for!”
“It’s not supper time yet!”
“Don’t bite your sister!”
And the list goes on. Obviously our cats have the run of the house, which results in a lot of shouting and clapping when they decide to destroy the apartment. Or the furniture. Or each other. They don’t respond to reason, just loud noises.
I’m sure our neighbours have figured out that we’re shouting at our big-eyed cats. Probably.