You don’t really know me. I mean, I met one of you briefly, but I am pretty sure you were…indisposed at the time, so does that really count? But see, I know a lot about you.
To the best of my knowledge, there are three of you. Two females and one male. One of the females we’ve lovingly nicknamed The Laugh, because it sounds like a cross between a dodo bird and a hyena. And it’s constant. You know what? Nothing is that funny. Unless you’re flying high on life, I suppose.
It seems as though all three of you have some sort of unique locomotion disorder where you’re required to wear lead-soled moon boots at all times – even in the middle of the night. Of course, it also doesn’t help that the floors/ceilings in this place are creakier than a Disney Haunted Mansion and thinner than the skin of an 80 year old woman. For that, you get a little bit of slack. A little.
You all have amazing stamina, what with your alternative sleep schedules. Quiet one night, up screaming until midnight another night and then up again five hours later to argue about how uncomfortable your moon boots are. Or there was last night, when you chose to dance around intermittently between the hours of 2 and 4am. Look, if you’re going to have a dance party, the least you could do is invite us. It’s only the polite thing to do. Instead, I was jolted awake and torn apart from my dreamland boyfriend, Jake Gyllenhaal (Bubble Boy had been on Comedy Central that day. I assure you, he was much hunkier in my dream than he was in Bubble Boy. Complete with stubble.), and every time I was just about to drift off and rejoin him, your moon boots again met the ceiling directly above my head.
Speaking of parties, do you remember that fateful night we met? Your dance moves were so synchronized that we watched our ceiling flex inward several inches, and it was then that we knew we had to meet. I can only guess that your excitement at having visitors was the cause of you fumbling to get your door open to greet us! Let’s be honest – your glistening eyes gave you away. We totally understood when you didn’t invite us in – I mean, you can only really play Twister with a limited number of people.
We wish that sometime you’ll take the time to get to know us. For instance, we enjoy sleeping uninterrupted for about 8-9 hours during the night. Every night. We also like being able to hear our television at a reasonable volume. When we can, we pride ourselves on helping others, so please let us know if you need help removing those moon boots. I know a guy who gets things done.
So please, don’t be strangers. Or do – we imagine that your progressive and carefree lifestyle will lead you to new and exciting places, and who are we to stand in the way of that?
Sleepless in Portland
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Oof…that sounds unpleasant. >_< I really shouldn't laugh, since I know how annoying rude apartment neighbors can be, but you wrote it so wittily I couldn't help giggling throughout the whole post:) We have an elderly man who lives under our floor and always smokes cigarettes on his veranda. The smoke (plus the smell of his frying fish) always come up and fills our living room. *shudders*
That’s so horrible.
We used to live below a woman who worked at a casino..every night around 3:00am she would get home from work and stomp around for an hour or so in frankenstein shoes.
Sounds a bit like my situation, only with drug users I can’t expect them home at the same time every night.
Ugh apartment neighbors can be the WORST. Did I ever tell you about the crazy bitch that gave us fleas?
I don’t think so….do tell.
The loudest neighbors I’ve ever had were the ones who lived below me when I first moved here. It was like living above a Jerry Springer episode. Thankfully my neighbors have been much more sane since then.
I kinda wish my neighbors would go and do something absolutely crazy so I would have reason to call the police. I hate all this annoying in between stuff that leaves me unable to sleep in the meantime. Either that or move out.
We lived above bartenders once. They would come home at 3:30 and blast either Andrew Dice Clay comedy or Air Supply. 1989 was a terrible year all around.
Wow, that is bad.
Pretty sure we’re your neighbors. We’ve become Those People.
I wasn’t aware that you took up meth…
Toddlers are actually a lot like meth.
Gotta love douchebag neighbors.
I hear you. I know what you are talking about. It sounds frustrating. I wish I had some good suggestions to help. I guess I’ll just give you a big smile. :-)
Thanks. I hope your smile comes with the power to evict the inconsiderate.
That sounds miserable. I’ve lived those days before, but thankfully they’re long gone. Well, if you don’t count my noisy teenagers…
I’m very ready to leave my apartment-living days behind me…
Loud neighbors are the worst!! I hope they settle down soon and you can get some sleep.
Thanks. Neighbors really do make or break a homelife.