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The old man from the first floor flat

“How dare you park your car before my house?”Startled, I looked up from the phone. It was the old man from the first floor flat. He was shouting at me.  “What?” I started to speak when he continued. “Your car is parked right before my gate.” I always park ahead of a gray colored gate. Last night I may have parked in front. “I am sorry, I will move it.” “Don’t you have any civic sense,” I wanted to respond, but I was the culprit here. As I walked towards his house, he followed me, continuing his tirade.  As we neared the car, I reached for the keys. It was not in my pocket. I checked all the pockets, even the shirt pocket. Then I remembered. I had sold my car the previous day. I was travelling by bus today, I had forgotten all about it.  Turning around, I smiled… The old man from the first floor flat

Changes are a part of life

Changes are a part of life. Let’s start with something as simple as rearranging a desk. For decades, my desk has been a technological jungle: a laptop, a pair of speakers, a printer, an external monitor, a keyboard, a mouse, and a pen holder overflowing with about a hundred pensmost of which haven’t written since the turn of this century. Every couple of months, I get fed up with the arrangement and decide it’s time for a fresh start. Until last Sunday, the printer had a prime spot on the right, while the laptop lounged lazily on the left. The speakers stood guard on either side of the monitor, and the keyboard and mouse were like stubborn teenagers who refused to move. It was time for a change. As I picked up each item, a thick layer of dust and cobwebs appeared, as if I had unearthed a forgotten tomb. Suddenly, my desk needed not just a makeover… Changes are a part of life

The doorbell rings

The doorbell rings. It is the new neighbors. Husband, wife, and two brats.  They have big smiles on their faces. I maintain my famous ‘I do not know who you are’ look. He introduces himself. I do the slightest of nods. Next, the wife asks if my wife is there so that they can talk. I mentioned she was out shopping and would not return for the next two hours. There is an awkward silence in the air. The brats are trying to slip past me through the narrow space between my legs and the door frame. I successfully block them. Finally, the husband and wife give up. They mentioned that they would come some other time. I hurriedly close the door. I hear the woman say something about a grumpy old man. Mission accomplished. Now I must convince my wife to keep them at arm’s length. It will be a difficult task to accomplish, but I refuse to give up.