Home Help

Posted by on Dec 2, 2012 in Blog, Featured | 1 comment

Home Help

I rise at 5am with the dawn. Mrs. Vigoda in Apartment seven is up at 5.15. I’m gone by then, out for my constitutional through the waking city. I like to cross the city before it fully comes to life, when the only citizens about are the sleepy eyed shift workers, the tired revellers, and me. I walk a mile and a half through the park and back. Daily exercise completed I return at 5.30am by the rear making sure not to disturb Mr. Vaughn in Apartment 3, he’s a light sleeper. Then it’s morning coffee from Mrs. Fagoda, she works shifts so there’s always extra in the pot.

By seven the building is beginning to stir, but I’m already back in my place by then. The Levensons on the 2nd floor have a baby and a couple of noisy kids. I can hear them all the way up on top floor. That wakes up the Woods in Apartment five and their arguments over breakfast bubble up through the clanking pipes that criss cross the building. The pipes are like set of fat copper telegraphs passing through my room. They run right over my head. If I sit in my favorite spot I can hear them vibrating with all the conversations of the old house. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m eavesdropping. I don’t mean to pry, I can hardly avoid hearing it all, sat where I am, all alone up here. What’s a guy supposed to do? Besides, it kinda keeps me company. And it’s useful. Take last week for instance. Mrs. Levenson, Julia, she was telling Ralph, her husband, over breakfast she’d made too much meatloaf and it was going to spoil. Well hey, why let good food go to waste? I mean Ralphie hates her meatloaf, so it’s not like he was ever going to eat it. It was probably going in the trash, this way everyone is happy.

And that’s not the only thing it’s useful for either, take last Summer when Mrs. Lansky on the first floor had her stroke. She could have been in all kinds of trouble, her daughter wasn’t due over until Tuesday night, but it was me who found her laid out on the kitchen floor. I called 911 right there and then. How did I know something was up? Mrs. Lansky is like me, she’s a stickler for routine. If 10am rolls around and the kettle on her stove isn’t whistling I know something must be up. Mrs. Lansky is doing just fine now too, she’s got home help and meals on wheels in every Wednesday. They always give those old folks too much and I’m sure she’s happy to share. I mean, hey, it’s only going to waste otherwise.

It’s not too bad up here, it gets hot in the Summer, cold in Winter, but that kind of thing doesn’t tend to bother me. As long as it’s dark and dry I’m happy. I never take anything that isn’t going to be thrown away, or go to waste and I look after them all, even mean old Mr Keller down the hall. These are my people, my family. I need them and they need me, more than they know.

The CC licensed image above is courtesy of Flickr user Bonesue728. The original can be found here

One Comment

  1. I am so intrigued by this character! And I love all the details, the tiny varied details of all the different lives in this building.

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