Sometimes you have let it go, sometimes. Thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk. 23 minutes passed. I rested my head against the bedroom wall but all I heard was the ceiling fan on the other side wobbling at half rotation. I reapeted the mantra, let it go, just let – it – gooo but there it was again. Thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk, (insert mantra) sequence repeated, and again, ad nauseam.
I had to see what was going on. I headed downstairs muttering to myself about “these damn kids” and without putting an ear against the door to the apartment below I heard, Thunk-thunk. I’d found the source. I knocked, it stopped but no one came to the door.
I repeated the mantra out loud, paused and walked to the opposite side of the building, stood in the parking lot (hands on hips) and surveyed the windows before me. Over the balcony rail, through the slider-door, I spied… my neighbor, pitching a yellow tennis ball with a lazy overhand.
The ball hit midway up the wall, traveled to the floor and back to him. Thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk.
Haven’t we all played this solo game of catch and release? Generally fueled by boredom or stress and while it may entertain for 15 minutes at a stretch, it doesn’t usually do more than annoy mother.
Back around to the front door, (having tossed that stupid mantra aside) knocked again, loudly. This time the door opened and before my neighbor could utter a word, I grabbed the ball from his hand and blurted…
“How many times has your mother told you; no playing ball in the house!?!”