my upstairs neighbor

my upstairs neighbor has a very active 3-4am routine and is, tragically, a minotaur. he must work the graveyard shift somewhere -- probably the graveyard, where no one can be put off by his big, powerful, hairy thighs, because they're all dead. 

he gets home around 3am and has to stomp off all the dirt and mud from his hooves, and this takes approximately an hour. sometimes it wakes me up, but instead of getting angry, i just remind myself how grateful i am to have regular human legs.

one night the minotaur had a friend over! this friend also did not have regular human legs, but instead -- and this is very sad -- lived in one of those large rubbermaid bins and got around by kind of hop-scooting everywhere. again, this was quite noisy for me, the downstairs neighbor, but truly i am just heartwarmed that in such an image-obsessed society, a minotaur and a bin person can find each other and be friends. this brings me joy.

still, i wonder, would he prefer a basement apartment? NOT SAYING WE SHOULD PUT ALL MINOTAURS IN THE BASEMENT. i would never say that. but what if there were just some incentives, like living in a little minotaur community, and maybe free dry cleaning for all their shirts? i don't know, i'm just an ideas person. and ideas people can live anywhere.