Moby doing much better, now that there is actual air to breathe. Not snuffling and squeaking and wheezing through his nose this week. Sun helps, or at least proof that the light is getting through with not so much particulate.
That our next door neighbors, the loud ones with their all night summer balcony parties, over the top cell phone calls, booming computer games, and most recently - drums until 0400, have been smoking voluminously these past two weeks, means the long hallway stinks. None seems to be getting under our door since the management added a brush strip. Even our lovely Balkan, smoking maintenance guy thinks the smoke from them "stinks!" Coming home Friday, an ambulance was out the main door, as I came in a woman in a scarf, much bundled, was being rolled out on a gurney, awake but anxious, with one of the guys from next door. I've seen a good half dozen young men in and around that two bedroom apartment, but never her before. Not even on the balcony. This worries me. How isolated she must be.
Then we got all our other neighbor's mail, and our mailbox is next to this loud awful bunch. We figure we've probably lost some mail. Not like they are going to return it. Subbing-holiday mailman error, we assume. Still, all worrisome, and nothing we can do about it. Admittedly, we give the finger when we walk past their door, but that's ultimately harmless. A gesture to our own powerlessness in the face of bold obnoxiousness.
Like we used to raise a finger to our Guard unit armory, which made us feel better, and affected the Army not at all.
Here's to being calm in the face of the inevitable. Smile and shrug.