The guy’s gotta weigh 300 pounds to thump around like that.  Taking the broom I was just about the bang the ceiling when the doorbell rang, freaking me out.  Why the hell does a one bedroom apartment have a doorbell?

            “Coming”  I think I may have made a mistake moving here but it was too late to back out now.  I had already moved all my crap out of the storage place and there was no going back, it was too full now with my new collection.

            Before unlocking the door I checked the peephole.  You never can tell about the people knocking at your door at night.

            Out the spotted glass I saw a blue banana clip moving round a central axis and a few stray strands of gray hair but no face.  Pulling open the door to the chain I peeked out.  A little old lady with a plate of rice crispy treats stood swivling her head from side to side until she noticed me.

            “Hello, dear.  I live upstairs and I brought you some treats to welcome you to the four-plex.”

            “Oh,” I said feeling my face get hot realizing the noise had come from above.  “Come in please.”  I shut the door in her face and unhooked the chair.  When I opened the door again she had a frown on her face but brightened immediately.

            “Dear, me.”  she said fingering a dent on the hall door.

            “I know.  My uncle hit the door with my dresser when he helped me move.  I need to let the owner know but I haven’t had the time.”

            “It’s OK.”  But I could see in her face that it wasn’t.  “I’m the owner so consider me told.  I guess I will have to have someone come in to repair that or replace the door.”

            Crap! This s one helluva way to start out living here, thank goodness I hadn’t pounded the broom at the ceiling.

            “Were you cleaning dear?”

            Looking at the broom in my hand I immediately put it away embarrassed at what I had thought to do with it when the thumping had started.  I really had to learn to control my impulses, it was my most dangerous attribute.  “Uh, yes actually, but it can wait.”

            “Really?”  She said looking around my slightly messy apartment.  “Well, that’s always a good thing.  Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”

            Eyeing the treats I thought I should be a good hostess.  “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

            “What kind?”

            “Well, it’s a Christmas blend…”

            “No thank you, I can’t stand that imitation stuff.  I only drink real coffee, but I brought you crispers.”  She handed me the plate then walked down the hall to my bedroom.

            “Um, hey…”  I said quickly depositing the plate of “crispers” on the kitchen counter as I ran after her.  “Excuse me.”

            “Well,” She said standing at the side of my rumpled bed,  “Didn’t your mother teach you to make the bed?”  I swear her eyes glinted like some kind of nocturnal animal caught in the glare of headlights in the dark.

            That was none of her business.  “What’s the use when I’m going to get right back into it a few hours later?”

            Shaking her head she headed for my closet but I reached it first and blocked the door.  The closet was the best part of this place, almost half the size of the room with space enough for all my stuff.  “I, uh…don’t like people in my closet.”  I could feel the heat of her stare as she glared at me.

            “YOUR closet?”

            “Yes,” I said lifting my chin.  For a moment I though she was going to hit me, then she seemed to remember herself and plastered on a serene face and smiled. 

            “Very well dear, maybe I’ll see it another time when you’ve had time to clean up a bit.

            Man, what is it with this lady?  “Thank you for the rice krispies,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint but she didn’t move.  “I’ll have one once I’ve cleaned up a bit.”  That seemed to satisfy her and she backed up.

            THUMP!

            She turned her birdlike head up to the ceiling and narrowed her eyes.

            “Is that your husband?”

            Whipping back to stare at me I saw her face contorted in rage.  “He’s not supposed to be moving around.”

            “Is he sick?”  

            She seemed to contemplate the answer a little too long.  “Yes,” she said finally and turned to leave.

            Trailing after her, I wondered at her reaction but she was out the door and up the stairs before I could look out into the breezeway.  Strange.  Looking at the plate of “crispers” I had and uneasy feeling and decided to dump them.  Too much sugar for my diet anyway.

            There were a few more thumps from upstairs but the rest of the night was quiet and I relaxed in front of the television forgetting all about the strange woman upstairs.