My Neighbor...

As I approached my apartment after walking home from work last week, I glanced at my car only to find a note on the windshield. I thought to myself that it could either be from a stalker, (which I kind of would not mind right now) or a note from someone telling me that they hit my car while I was not around. Unfortunately it was the latter. My neighbor who lives in the apartment above me had left me the note letting me know that she had backed up into my rear left bumper scraping off the paint and transferring my blue paint ever so nicely onto her pretty little silver Acura. Needless to say I was sad to see something like this happening to my Kenneth, but at the same time relieved to find that the perpetrator was honest enough to leave me a note. (I would have noticed my bumper paint on her bumper. Good thing she said something or else I would have had to open up a can on her.)
Information was given to me, and now her insurance is paying for Kenneth's visit to the shop to get a new paint job on the bumper! Over the last week I have had time to think about how annoying it was to think that someone could be so careless not to even look over their shoulder and check to make sure that they would not hit anything. Sure, insurance will take care of it, but its just another thing that I have to do now. Why can't I get a break? Why does it feel like I am in some constant battle with silly fools? What am I, fly paper for morons?!?!?! Needless to say, I have got myself really worked up about the whole situation and have really began to harbor some ill feelings towards my neighbor and all other dim witted people in the world other than myself.
Then last night as I was attempting to sleep I heard very clearly a voice. It was someone singing, but I could not distinguish from where or from whom. I was sure that it was not my roommate Steve from the room next door, unless he had a very high soprano voice that he wasn't telling me about. Then I realized that it was coming from my neighbor upstairs. She was singing alone in her room at nearly midnight, probably attempting to lullaby herself to sleep. Now, it wasn't very beautiful, and she was obviously a "shower singer". Initially, I was very annoyed at the fact that I had to listen to old religious spirituals from the over-the-hill single woman from the apartment above me when it was clearly late and her neighbors were attempting to sleep. I did the whole "pillow over the head" thing which did not work, and then I contemplated what she would do if I started to bang on my ceiling with the handle of my broom.
Then is came to me... she must be lonely. She must wish that there was someone there with her to maybe sing to her, or have a nice pillow talk session with her. I thought about how old she was and how seemingly silly it was for her to be singing like that in bed. It seemed to me that only children did that sort of thing. At least that's what I and my siblings did. Then I realized how lonely she really was. How young she felt inside to sing so loudly. She suddenly became a real person in my mind. A person with a past and feelings. A person like me. I suddenly stopped caring about the car situation and my anger towards the world. I suddenly felt a rush or sympathy and understanding come over me as I listened to a 5o something year old woman sing alone in the middle of the night to herself. Not only did my feelings toward her change, but I fell fast asleep to her lullabys... her songs of understanding.