Nestled on the fourth floor of a charmingly lift-less five-story building, my abode is part of an eclectic homeowners' association featuring everything from humble medium-rises to towering skyscrapers.
In a valiant effort to fend off a sedentary lifestyle, I've self-appointed the noble task of daily trash disposal. Just yesterday morning...
"Off I go!" "Have a good one!"
Post a brisk descent from the fourth and a short jaunt to the bins to bid farewell to the day's refuse, I wandered back, lost in a daydream. Upon returning, I swung open the door.
"Home sweet home!" "Welcome back!"
Hold on a second...
Stepping inside, I was greeted by an unexpected pink hue emanating from the open tatami room, coupled with a delightful scent...
"Oh, my apologies!!!"
In a comical twist of fate, I had mistakenly invaded the Kishiyama residence on the floor below. The Kishiyama household, bustling with two young daughters, naturally boasted a different 'vibe' and fragrance than my own.
Retreating to my actual home and relaying the tale to my wife, we agreed that a morning apology might add to the chaos. Later, I learned she had gracefully cleared the air with Mrs. Kishiyama, who shared her own amusing tale of a similar mix-up with the Nagawas on the second floor. She recounted how, moments after Mr. Kishiyama had left for work, she almost greeted the mysterious visitor with a cheery "Welcome back!" before realizing it was, indeed, not him.
