Another thing I love, Love, LOVE about living where we do is that the people are freakishly friendly and neighbourly.
Our asshole dog (she’s officially an asshole until she accepts the fact that she WILL poo while attached to a leash and WILL NOT do it as far as she can possibly get into some neighbour’s front yard) has decided that she hates the dog next door. He did nothing to her, and she snarls and leaps at him every time she sees him.
This despite the fact that she is otherwise usually terrified and will run, tail between legs away from: the inactive vacuum, Neil or I moving on the couch (while she’s on the floor), something being dropped in the kitchen, air, nothing at all.
And still the dog’s owner is patient and kind and insists that it’s ok and the dogs will eventually come to like eachother and be friends.
But this isn’t about them. This is about the guys across the hall.
Dan and Andrew are a couple of 3rd year UBC students originally from Toronto and Portland, studying Art History and Poli-Sci, respectively. It all started when they moved in about a month ago and Dan knocked on our door asking if he could borrow a screwdriver to assemble his newly acquired Ikea bed. The screwdriver was returned with great appreciation a couple days later, and an invite for dinner followed shortly after.
So over we went, armed with our charm and a bottle of wine, and the guys treated us to a fantastic meal of chilled green salad, tabbouleh, chicken in peanut sauce and Naan. And dessert waffles that put my waffles to shaaaaaame (though in all fairness, I believe that’s more about the waffle maker than the chef).
We spoke of East vs. West (coast), American vs. Canadian Politics, movies, books, wine, women and song.
After dinner we retired to the living room, painted in a dark blue-grey, covered in posters of Che Guevara, James Dean, Jimi Hendrix and the Blues Brothers. Thumbtacked Art prints by Escher and Dali. We sat on couches draped with tye-dyed blankets, and smoked a hookah by the glow of the lavalamp and a few candles, and continued to chat.
As the night grew long, and we all realized we had to get up for either work or school in the morning, we said our goodbyes and make the long, 2.5 step journey back across the hallway.
The moment we stepped back into our own apartment, nearly the same layout as theirs, except flipped left-to-right, and gazed upon our taupe walls and Asian/Scandanavian minimalist design, framed artwork and too-big for the space TV (Dan & Andrew opted against the idiot box, and use their rolling stand for the hookah instead) – it hit us immediately.
Without warning, and certainly without permission, for the first time in our lives, we felt OLD. Sigh. It’s only a matter of time before we start eating dinner at 4:30pm and yelling at those crazy kids to quiet down and get off our lawn!
Perfect! Now I know what to buy you for your new place…a lavalamp! 😉
I’ll be right over with my antiquarian book collection, Reader’s Digest Collected Works, Metamucil and walker to accessorize your OLD PERSON APARTMENT.
Ha ha. 😀
A link for you: 25 Signs That, Sadly, You’ve Grown Up
Thanks Gill. Goddammit.
Although – random trivia for those who read the comments: the first time Neil and I had sex it WAS in a twin bed – a cot no less!
Sorry Mel’s grandparents….
You know, after having twin bed sex in residence at university for many years, I can’t say I’m really willing to go back to that, ever. Unless I’m drunk and horny and there’s nothing else.