I live in what I call high-quality communal housing, as do 85% of this island's population, while the rest are roughly scattered in private apartments and landed properties. I like to think ours is the most successful public housing project in the world, which I must say, is true to a large extent, considering we are one densely-populated nation.

There are downsides to high-quality and high-density living, but of course. One common pet peeve among residents is incessant noise pollution, which was recently highlighted in the papers. I don't know what's worse: noisy neighbours, nosy neighbours, or neighbours without noses. I'm rather happy where I am now, for my neighbours are mostly very sociable beings. The joneses next door, for instance, are a friendly and outgoing family who like to borrow random items like onions and eggs. They sometimes turn the stereo to full blast, engage in riotous Mahjong parties, and they have a helluva noisy kid, but I can live with that. I have a high threshold for noise. Besides, they satiate me with chocolate eclairs. Often.

But the neighbour who refuses to wring the laundry before hanging it out to dry is one neighbour I can live without.

My mum went ballistic last week when she found stains on the laundry that was left out to sun. I don't know which pea-brained idiot threw bits of leftover spaghetti out the window; everything promptly splattered on our clothes and bamboo poles and left distinguishable orangey-yellow marks everywhere. Think of it as a Molotov cocktail of sorts, or bird poops, if you may. In fact, it was the second time it had happened. There was another, one metallic wok lid, measuring at least 45cm in diameter that was flung down a couple months back. I called for the police when I realised one of our bamboo poles went crashing down with it. The police arrived shortly after the incriminating evidence had been removed. Nothing much we can do, they told me, we'll just have to keep track.

I swear to god I will wring my neighbour's clothes (and neck) the next time i catch him/her in the act. That is, if I do. Some people are far too wily.

I decide to write my own tongue-in-cheek letter to whoever lives upstairs. If the town council cannot resolve a problem like this, i'll have to do it my own way. Here goes my letter that was penned in 5 minutes:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am writing to tell you how happy I am to recieve your showers of blessing.

You know, God can only shower us with love and bless us with good health, but you always go one step further: You shower us with delicious chicken noodles, water, toilet paper, towels, Kotex, and the occasional G-string, I actually think you are far more well-stocked than the minimart downstairs. Yes sir/mam, I think you are one hell of a generous person, I can't say how much I adore you! I mean, look, who the heck are you. I want to meet you sometime.

Remember the last time you sent us a flying wok (cover)? Or was it a frying pan? I forgot to tell you we already have a wok at home. It's a little worn but still quite the trusty wok. That was a really nice gesture though, thanks. The next time I will return your kindness, yet again, by placing a call to 999. The people on the other line were immensely friendly, I tell you. But I guess no one can really match up to your kindness yet.

I suppose it might be wiser to bless us with money next time.

Yours sincerely,
Michelle.

I say, throw nothing out of the window; throw away your kampung mentality if you must. Please have some consideration for the ones living below you.

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