my neighbours cant hang laundry to save their lives

I stand in my kitchen, with the hum of the kettle boiling, and inevitably I glance at the windows of the apartment across. Bright in the morning sun, their laundry flaps in the wind, heavy with moisture, hung at weird angles along the three lines on pullies outside their window. They're too far to make any sound, but in my mind I hear the weeping of fabric, sobbing, begging to be pulled in to the safety of an indoor drying rack. The concept of Hung here is tenuous both in definition and physical fact. Because I do not think my neighbours (and I emphasise here the plural, for these are multiple groups of people across three different floors) are able to hang their laundry. I do not mean that there is a "correct" way to hang your laundry, but I believe that the first consideration for a well-hung piece of clothing you want to dry, is that it remains hung. It could very well be that I am neurotic, however, peeking down towards the ground floor of their building, there is always a…