It has to. Seriously. That's the only explanation for the thumping, stomping, pacing footsteps to which I am subjected every evening.
It's worst on Friday afternoon and evening. I think it's because the beast must be attempting to clean its cave of an apartment after a long week of neglecting household chores. I picture the creature clomping about on hairy feet with crusted toenails, picking up clutter, putting laundry in to wash, loading the dishwasher.
It follows a similar pattern to my own housecleaning. Lots of moving about in the kitchen. Living room to bedrooms. Back and forth from laundry room to closets. I could feel something of a kinship to it, if the the rumblings weren't so mind-numbingly loud.
1 comment:
AAAh the Joys of living on the bottom floor!
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