It would so happen that I would be living next door to a door-slamming lunatic, whose abruptions are most disquieting. Thank God, though, they moved the certifiably insane woman who lived beneath me to more padded digs. Consolation of some sort. Fruits of a life of poverty and its concomitant, writing. Were I in Versailles, I doubt I would suffer such distraction. The surroundings would be distraction enough, I suppose. Best go and find out. Footman! Nab my slippers!