Shutterstock

Let me just explain my living situation for a minute. I live in New York City with my younger sister, in an overpriced, one bedroom apartment, with paper thin walls. No exaggeration on that paper thin detail. When my neighbors sneeze, I say bless you. Well, that’s not entirely true, when my neighbors sneeze or cough I hold my breath, trying not to expose myself to the germs floating through the vent. Once I feel it’s safe to breathe, I ask myself, why are these mugs always sick?! (Turns out they smoke. That smoker’s phlegm is no joke.) Point is, based on what I’m able to hear through these paper thin walls, I make up all kinds of short stories about who these people are, what they do for a living and particularly, what they did this past week, while much of New York City was trapped indoors while Sandy wreaked havoc outside and on the subway system. While I was crafting a life for my neighbor, a life complete with a demanding boyfriend and a cat who often tired of her baby voice, I’m sure, based on what they were hearing, they were assuming quite a bit about me as well, .