The Neighbors Downstairs Think We’re Nuts

Hubs and I live in a duplex with some neighbors below us. We’ve met a few times, waved, and they even invited us downstairs once but we were about to go to bed. We’re on different schedules apparently.

But, I also think that they think we’re on different planets. That’s right. I’m pretty sure they think we’re nuts. And who knows? Their assessment is probably correct.

Take last night for instance. If you remember in one of my earlier posts, I hide all the balls in the house because Hubs gets distracted WAY too easily and will at some point end up throwing them at me. Repeatedly. Well, as I went to check up on him while he was doing homework, I noticed a purple ball on the floor. I have NEVER seen this ball in my life.

“Honey, where did this ball come from?” I asked.
I had been sitting on his lap talking with him when I had asked. Hubs’ grasp on me grew tighter.
“Please don’t take my ball away.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I hadn’t planned on taking it away. I was just curious where it came from.” I tried to get up to go about my own business but he still wouldn’t let me go. Apparently he was convinced I was going to steal his ball. Challenge accepted.
“I’m not going to steal your ball,” I laughed. So he let go, and I kicked that ball clear across the house. I’ve never seen a grown man leap across the room so quickly. The thud that resulted when gravity won was ridiculous. I swear, he’s just like a puppy.

What ensued was a mad dash around the house where I intercepted the ball and then Hubs sat on his knees groveling. I got to do a few of those moves you do with pet dogs where you try to fake them out by fake throwing it—I’ve never seen him flinch to run for it so many times.  Eventually I hid it in a box that Hubs found in two seconds. Oh well.

So I found another ball and hid it under the recliner. Hubs stole my lap top. How those two things are equal, I will never know.

Eventually what resulted was me having an apple thrown at me. He said he thought I’d catch it, but you’d think this man would know by now that his wife has no sense of hand eye coordination or reflexes whatsoever. He asked me to throw it back to him because now he was somehow wearing a baseball glove and no lie—he tried to play catch with me with an apple.

Round objects are now banned in the Miller house just FYI.

I tell you this so you can understand the sounds that were probably heard below us. I’m pretty sure it sounded like a circus of bouncing balls and rhinos hitting every wooden plank of our floor.

Eventually Addison’s friend and tutor got online to chat about homework, which I of course, informed him that Hubs had thrown an apple at me. His response? “Well then why don’t you just pie him in the face.”

At first, I didn’t understand. We don’t have any pie. Who has pie just lying around their house? But his friend continued saying all you need is a lightweight pie pan and whipped cream (apparently ceramic pie pans are not allowed in this scenario).

And thus the pie-in-the-face war at the Miller house ensued. Unfortunately, no pies were actually successful in reaching other people’s faces, but I got close.

Hubs just resolved to eat all the whipped cream. Men.

Apparently anything with a foamy quality is now banned from our house too.

And that is why I think the neighbors downstairs think we’re crazy.

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