So I moved back to Sydney recently and got to do that fun thing where I went through all the junk I kept in storage while I was in Canada. You can bet I had held onto some useful stuff, like that swimsuit I cant fit into anymore and a jacket missing all but one button. And CDs! Because who knows what life will throw at you!
I did find something kind of great, though. It was a short account of the things we heard from the lady who used to live in the apartment above Tegan and I in North Sydney. Just a little snippet I had scrawled after we had run out into the stairwell to get front row seats to the nutbaggery so I would NEVER FORGET how bananas she was. Some might argue that Tegan and I were the crazy ones for eavesdropping so heartily on someone else’s life, but it’s called anthropology, duh!
It wasn’t all creepy stairwell stalking, thanks to some quirky acoustics we could hear most of their intimate exchanges from the comfort of our home – their fights and their sex. And to be fair, we could only really hear her so she may have just been a very convincing schizophrenic. Sometimes I would hear her weeping dramatically, followed by a two minute delay, then followed by her loud sex noises. True love!
One valentines day, Ryan and I listened as she phoned her fiance in hysterics because he wasn’t home from work and she wanted ROMANCE. In the midst of her “My Super Sweet 16 girl doesn’t get a convertible BMW” meltdown she declared, “THIS IS THE WORST VALENTINES DAY EVER.” (Sidenote – I like to re-enact this exchange for Ryan sometimes as a warning.)
On that day in the stairwell we listened while she sobbed to the fiance about an email he had written to his sister, an email she had uncovered through careful covert monitoring of his private correspondences. How could he write to his sister, she demanded, without mentioning even once the beautiful weekend they has just shared? Why wouldn’t the sister want to hear all about the sexy weekend had by her brother and his fiance? YOU TELL ME!?
Once she had finished berating him with the fiery irrationality of a thousand Fox News presenters, his only response was, “I’ve told you a million times: I’ll marry you, babe.”
So, naturally my heart longs to know if these two crazy kids made it. Where are they now? In prison? Dead after a Romeo-and-Juliet-style true-lovers suicide pact? Contestants on a reality TV show? Probably that last one. But in any case, thanks Hoarding for bringing beautiful memories like this one back into my life.