avoiding the neighbors.

this is the story of me leaving town.

i'm going to denmark for the next couple of months, but not yet. first, i'm going to the mountains to see my family. and i'm leaving today. imminently, in fact, and i'm driving. with lots of things. including, but not limited to, two boxes of my grandmother's crystal and a bag. not, like, a wheelie suitcase or a tote, maybe a duffel? a medium sized duffel bag? i don't know what you would call it, but i decided to carry it out to the car last night, and at the bottom of the stairs is my neighbor george.

let me pause here to say: i live on the third floor. on the second floor lives a truly lovely couple, george and martha (like the hippos or the president).

last night, george was coming back from the river or someplace that he had been with his cats. so george is at the bottom of the stairs checking his mail, and the cats are in their carriers stacked one on top of the other. on the stairs.

do you see where this is going?

i'm not a very coordinated or graceful person. my mother used to (and quite possibly still does) think that i have a neurological disease. that kind of clumsy.

now do you see where this is going?

some might say "knowing, as you do, your lack of coordination, maybe pause and reflect and wait for the cats to be moved or proceed with great care past the cats" and i say "don't stack your cats on the stairs. because it's weird and your neighbors might knock them down."