Every evening when I take Mimi for her bedtime pitstop on the grass downstairs, we walk on the sidewalk past a building where there is often noise -- screaming in fact. A family lives on the second floor of a ten-floor building and consists of a man, a woman and a child. Other people may reside with them too, but of these three I am sure. They don't have curtains (or at least they are not closed most of the time), the windows are huge, and as is common in these parts, I can see clearly and directly into their apartment -- especially at night when their interior lights are on.
The woman of the house is the screamer. She yells at her husband as he sits at his computer and ignores her. She yells at her child, a son who appears to be about 10 or 11 years old. He ignores her just like her husband does, but she follows the child from room to room, screaming at the top of her lungs. No one in her house can do anything right, and she yells unceasingly. Every single day, even though I vary the time of the nighttime walk, she is yelling. There is no peace in that home. How can they stand it? I can't even stand it, and my exposure to it is small compared to those who live under the same roof as her.
A few months ago though, I noticed it stopped. I wondered what miraculous dramatic change could have possibly silenced the screeching complaints of that miserable mom.
But tonight, as I was walking by, I discovered she was at it again.
Alas, it seems it never really stopped.
The weather is really hot now, and everyone has their apartment windows and balcony sliding doors open to catch a breeze. During the winter, their windows were shut and I didn't hear the yelling.
Too bad. Because they really and truly do need a miracle over there.
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