I live on the third floor of a brownstone building in a small studio apartment. My landlords are a sweet older couple who occupy the entire first floor. Then there is another married couple on the second floor and a man in his 30s who also lives on the 3rd floor. The washer and dryer are in a hallway closet between our apartments. I have lived in this space for over 8 months and although it feels like a cozy little home, I rarely have interactions with my neighbors. In fact, the man that lives across from me I have only seen 3 times.
When I first moved I felt compelled to reach out and be more neighborly; an instinctual impulse I opted not to act on. After all, I moved into a studio to simplify life and gain creative privacy, not to make friends and entertain random knocks at my door. I can’t tell you how nice it is to come home after a long day, close my door on the outside world and enter into my own little world knowing I won’t be interrupted. Often I relish in peeling off my “cubicle clothes” and hanging out in a tee-shirt and underwear, a freeing perk of living alone.
Last night I was similarly clad when I decided to watch a movie. I don’t have TV or internet in my house so watching a movie is sort of a novelty. After setting up my computer, popping popcorn, getting the pillows situated and pouring myself a glass of wine I remembered my laundry in the washer. “Grrrrr,” I groaned not wanting to leave my cozy position. Begrudgingly, I got of bed and cracked open the door the slightest bit to listen if my laundry was done. As Fickle Fortuna would have it, at that very moment, my neighbor was ascending the staircase.
“Ahhhhhhh,” I squealed slamming the door shut.
On the other side I scrambled to find clothes not wanting my neighbor to think I was a freak. I put back on my work skirt and hoddie. I opened the door just as he was unlocking his.
“John,” I blurted out having no idea what I was going to say next. “I’m sorry I shut the door like that, it’s just… well you see, I didn’t have any pants on.”
He looked at me shaking his head, grocery bags dangling from his arms.
That’s what she said,
A Warrior Princess