Hiss! Pfffft!

Seven years ago right now, my now-ex and I were embroiled in an epic war launched by our downstairs neighbors whose delicate constitutions were incompatible with the deafening pitter-pats of eight velvety kitten paws touching our floors. The neighbors retaliated by blaring explosion-filled video games on their TV speakers non-stop and filing a noise complaint with our condo board—after pissing off the board president by putting a passive-aggressive note on his windshield because they were unable to tolerate the way he parked within the lines of his own parking spot. I responded to their complaint with a full-artillery manifesto destroying everything about them so blisteringly that they literally broke their lease and moved out within a month. (I must find that manifesto and post it here in the spirit of lingering pettiness. If I remember correctly, it’s quite a masterpiece of laser-focused vitriol.) But as a lovely benefit from all this drama, to show my due diligence in attempting to quell the deafening pitter-pats of eight velvety kitten paws thundering through our floors, I bought us this gorgeous pitter-pat-silencing rug: