FYI: Amy Deardon and Carla Gade are the winners of any of my books that she chooses for the month of April. Leave a comment today for your chance for a book in May. If I receive more than 15 comments, 2 people will win a book! 18 people commented last month.
This past year I have lived completely by myself for one of the rare times in my life. The solitude seldom worries me; but after new neighbors moved in overhead, I began to wonder. People seemed to come and go at all hours of the day and night. Were they the ones who occasionally stop by my door and throw something at it? Were they part of the rumored gang activity in this part of the city? Worst of all, they played music--loud--with their windows wide open. I decided that at best, they were inconsiderate; and at worst, they could perhaps be dangerous.
The other day, I walked from the parking lot to my front door. A nicely-dressed young man stood in the yard with something furry at his feet. A second and third glance told me he had a rabbit. Being an animal person (and never having encountered a rabbit at an apartment before), I started talking with him.
The baby rabbit nibbled on the green grass as if starved. He was an Easter gift. I considered the juxtaposition of the man, rabbit, and apartment, and asked, "Do you live upstairs?"
The neighbor I was afraid of had a pet rabbit?
He continued. "Does my music bother you?"
At least he asked. I said, "Well, yes, it is loud, but I notice you only do that during the day time. So I haven't complained."
"I knew it." He frowned. "I'll turn it down. You see, I'm a musician with a recording contract and I have to practice."
Musician under contract--author under contract. Both of us with similar job problems (and joys!) And maybe he performs at night clubs, which explains his odd hours.
My scary gang member neighbor turned into a rabbit-loving fellow artist.
Be careful of assumptions.