There's a lady who lives just downhill from us, about 8 or so row-house doors and across the street. Every so often, maybe once or twice a week, she opens up the front window of her second floor room, steps out onto the porch roof with a big white towel or bed sheet. She starts waving the piece of fabric in big sweeping motions, and yells, at full volume, "REPENT. REPENT. REPENT." She says something else too garbled to understand, but no doubt about how sinful we all are, then repeats "REPENT. REPENT. REPENT." And back again to the garbled stuff. That goes on for a good 15 or 20 minutes, sometimes longer.

No one pays any attention to her. Clearly there's something wrong in the mental department.

Maybe the lady in the House is her sister.
MACTECH ubi dolor ibi digitus