Last Thursday, Mr. Wonderful and I were reclining on the couch, watching Giada at Home when we heard an odd tapping noise. It was coming from the apartment next door. I think I turned down the TV to listen. I thought maybe my neighbor was patting a piece of furniture, trying to get the attention of her elderly, blind pet poodle.
Then we heard the moaning.
It wasn’t a piece of furniture being patted, it was a headboard being slammed against the wall while somebody got a good dose of lovin’. Mr. W started to laugh loudly and I clapped my hand over his mouth. “Groooooossss,” I whispered to him, hoping we were catching the final act of the performance—and that it would end soon.
“Well I guess Wanda has a boyfriend. Or girlfriend.” I’ve only spoken to my new-ish neighbor a couple of times in passing. Key details of her love life hadn’t been discussed.
We went back to watching our show…and sure enough, about five minutes later the knocking and groaning resumed.
“Good God I thought they were done.” I turned the TV up louder.
The symphony went on for about 15 or 20 more minutes. Longer than Mr. W and I ever wanted to hear. We joked about banging on the wall and saying, “Keep it down over there, we’re trying to watch a cooking show!” But poor Wanda would probably never be able to leave her house again after that.
I think I’m going to feel shy next time I see her. And also grateful that I’m in the end unit, with a bedroom wall that only borders the parking area. Not that I’m ever doing anything naughty in there, Mom…