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The Wall Between Us…is Awfully Thin
Such is life in the big city
I’m Your Noisy Neighbour
I was yelling at my kids the other day. Not something that I’m proud of, but there it is. Parents yell, right? They get frustrated, reach the end of their collective ropes, and let loose on the young’uns. An everyday occurrence and not too interesting unless, of course, you’re listening in.
If you’re like me — a city dweller in a tiny home that’s much to small for my brood — you’re used to airing your dirty laundry, literally and figuratively.
You see, I’m close to my neighbours. Really close.
When the windows are open, I might as well be standing right in front of them — that’s how little auditory privacy exists between us.
If they’re not hearing “my business” through open windows, the very thin walls will suffice. They know everything about me and my family, whether I like it or not. And vice versa.
On too many occasions to count, I’ve sheepishly greeted my neighbours with a furtive smile, avoiding eye contact, due to my inherent shame. They know that I’m a bad mom. They just know.
On other occasions, I own it.
“Sorry for the yelling last night,” I proclaim cheerily to the lady next door.
