It’s a good day
Awakened to my alarm, not to a crane being dropped on my head. For the first time in 226 days.
The peace didn’t last long. Whoever was upstairs made a point of displaying their pissed-offedness by banging the sliding glass door and whatever furniture could withstand their violence.
You know, business as usual.
But then a glorious thing happened … Nothing. Two men were seen dragging paper towels, suitcases and a round glass tabletop down the hall to the garage.
They banged the door shut one last time.
And all was well in Whoville.
I celebrated by walking downstairs for the first time in six weeks to feed the last remaining duck who didn’t leave.
He was hungrily snacking on popcorn and seeds when I saw human movement over my shoulder.
I was scared, but I looked.
It was a man in the first floor apartment directly beneath mine. (I’m several floors up, and he probably witnessed the thousands of bread and seed showers we used to host.)
I figured he’d be upset. But he grinned big and gave me two thumbs up. He loved the ducks, too.
As they say in Whoville, my heart grew three sizes today.
And judging from the way my pants fit, so did my ass. But, details.