I’m blanking on whether I talked about this on my blog or podcast recently; apologies if I repeat myself here.
Our previous neighbours on this floor were, as politely as I can say, problematic. They had vicious, loud arguments long into the night that at one point resulted in a thud hitting our common wall. They chain-smoked on a non-smoking floor to such an extent that it’d seep under their door, through the hallways, and into our apartment. They constantly hurled abuse and profanities at their children. And, in a famous episode I discussed on Twitter at the time, the husband called me a poofter upon meeting me the first time. I took it as a compliment, though I don’t think that was the intended effect.
They were evicted recently, much to our collective delight on this floor. Strata informed us, in as much as they could say, that they’d received sufficient complaints to warrant their swift removal. Clara and I didn’t care about the reasons or circumstances, we were just happy to see the tail end of their moving boxes, vanishing into the sunset in a cloud of smoke and anger.
I mention this because I just met our new neighbours who moved in and… they’re lovely! I gave them a guest network for Wi-Fi while they get their own Internet connection sorted out, and filled them in on how to get deliveries and use the intercom system. At the end the gentleman fistbumped me—it’s what we’re doing in a Corona world—and we went our separate ways.
You instinctively know there are great people in the world, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.