The Editor must make a correction to the Open Letter from last week.
Today, while fetching the mail with the dog (I hold it in my mouth while she sniffs for the latest urine spot), I noticed a neighbor pulling into the lot next to our building. I wonder who that is, I thought. And then the stalker in me reared its ugly head, I wonder where he lives! So, as I climbed the stairs and the mysterious neighbor followed me, I decided I would be clever and fumble with my keys at the door while I spied on the neighbor. One, how ridiculous am I? I know I was conspicuous as I stare around the the hall trying to look inconspicuous. Two, I never close the door when I get mail. Thus, I looked doubly idiotic as I put my keys in the door and it opens from the pressure. Uh duh.
Anyway, at this point in my glorious state of general stupidity, the neighbor has climbed to the third floor. I listen to his heavy footsteps approach our side of the building and realize he is the WOMAN I THOUGHT LIVED ABOVE US.
This leads me to wonder: why is he wearing high heels so often?