No walk today, but I
do have a picture.
You see, last night, I
was sitting at my desk and Elder Morgan walked across the floor to his desk.
These raucous activities were greeted by the sound of our downstairs
neighbors banging on their ceiling and yelling at us. Well, it was about
bedtime anyways, so we retired to our room. The banging stopped on our floor,
only to recommence, this time on our door. I didn't feel like dealing with
them, though, so I shrugged my shoulders, pulled up my covers, and went to
sleep.
Now, in my dreams,
they called the cops on us, but that is another story.
When we awakened,
another round of floor pounding was set off by me opening my drawer to get a
pair of garments out. Well, at this point, I figured I had two options. I could
either start jumping up and down and really give them something to complain
about, or I could serve them. Feeling that I couldn't very well emulate Christ
by doing the former, I settled on the latter, and cooked a loaf of pumpkin
bread and wrote a short apology. Now, I still don't have charity in my heart,
but maybe one day I can feel and not just act kindly towards them.
See, I do commiserate
with them: I am sure we are loud. However, rather than being by intention or by
negligence, the volume of our day to day living is caused by a poorly
constructed apartment. We can do somethings to mitigate the volume level, but
then again, is it our responsibility to inconvenience ourselves to make up for
their choice of residence and the poor construction of our place? Well,
perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, I personally am hyper aware of every sound,
and remorseful of extra noise. I ghost across our carpets on the pads of my
feet, and set anything down on the floor as gingerly as I can. In this way, I
am overcoming my long-standing title of a herd of elephants (and making good
use of all those times I snuck out of bed to get a midnight snack. Good
practice!) My companions, however, must never have had a midnight craving,
because their foot-falls heavy. I thought that perhaps, given Elder Morgans
size (he is perhaps a hands-breadth shorter than I), I would wince less when my
companion walks across the room. However, his stride is actually more forceful
than was Elder Hancock's, and his disregard for thumps is greater. I certainly
don't want to be the nagging wife telling him to be quiet, although I have
mentioned it several times, especially given the fact that morally he probably
has no obligation to temper his natural step.
See, if everyone
involved had charity, there would be no problem: we would be as considerate as
we reasonably could, and they would be patient and understanding. But, I can
only control myself, so I will keep focusing on not dropping things. Although I
did drop half an egg. The other half made it back into the pan from which I had
flipped it to try and fry both sides without turning it over with a spatula. I
apparently need more practice on that technique, I think it is in the
wrist.
Well, thems the kicks,
I suppose. We should have a less active and her nonmember family participate in
our branch zoom call tomorrow, which is cheerful.
Love,
Elder DeFord
(There aren't any oats
in the bread proper, I just sprinkled them on top to make it look nice...also
to make it look less like I used a baking mix. Which of course I would never
do)
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