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Every morning, the lady next door sits on her porch to smoke and cough.

And I mean every morning.

Cough. Cough. Cough.

That’s fine. It doesn’t really affect what I do with my day at all. Mostly I just feel badly for her that she’s got such a horrible rattle going on.

BUT.

Some mornings I have to cough, too. Because of asthma. Because of allergies. Because of changes in the weather. Because of a cold. Because it just HAPPENS and what are you going to do?

Our bathroom window is a) always open; and b) right across from where my neighbour coughs.

So when I cough, it only makes sense that she can hear me, too.

Then she stops coughing.

Like I’m making fun of her.

We both stand, suspended in silence, waiting for the other one to do something so we can clear our throats or hack away like a TB patient.

An impasse.

Here’s how you know you are an overly polite Canadian: you go to the other end of your home — conveniently window-free — to do your coughing, just so your neighbour won’t feel mocked.

I swear, I feel that I should apologize to the sidewalk sometimes.