Empathy

My downstairs neighbor, who is either usually silent or else usually out of town, is home with a terrible, terrible cough. He sounds like he's hacking up a lung, and it goes on and on and on. I would be annoyed if I didn't feel so sorry for him. I'd go ask him if he needs anything, except that I heard him on the phone the other night saying he was just fine and didn't need anything, he was just going to stay home and rest up and wait it out. Many neighbor-sounds are bothersome: alarms that go off for hours, yowling lonely cats, vacuuming on Saturday mornings, and so on. But I'm able to tune them out eventually, for the most part. The coughing, I can't tune out, because I just feel so darn sorry for him.

I guess this gives me an excuse to head out to a coffee shop for my Saturday workathon rather than trying to do it from my living room couch. Oooh, Shenandoah Joe's is open. (Usually Sunday is workathon-day, and they're closed, so I go to C'ville Coffee, which has excellent coffee but dreadful espresso.)

The sick neighbor is now taking a hot shower. I hope that helps him out. I wish I knew some of the people who live here. The next place I live, I'm going to meet my neighbors if it kills me.