Some Days I Feel Like Truman

There is some strange territory that goes along with living in a twin home. Just on the other side of that shared wall could be someone looking in a mirror to pick their teeth while you idly wash the dishes. Late at night the hallway next door creaks and moans as people walk up and down it. At times it’s so loud that it seems to be our hallway and I am convinced that a burglar could sneak up on us because his furtive creeping would easily be mistaken for the next-door neighbors’ middle of the night trip to the potty.

Our cellar way smells like fried food in the evenings and cigarette smoke the rest of the day. The upstairs bathroom wall is so thin that phone conversations and sneezing can be easily heard. It can be unnerving to hear loud bangs and whining drills and be unable to investigate the source of the disturbance.

My husband and I were blessed enough to rent a freestanding apartment for the first five years of our marriage, and so I am unaccustomed to these sorts of living arrangements. We still can’t complain as our neighbors are nice people who aren’t given to having loud parties or standing on their front porch to scream obscenities, neither do they have a large dog that barks at all hours of the day.