Apartment Living

Our neighbors below us just hit the floor with some type of object in a primitive attempt to let us know we were apparently walking too loudly in the living room for their liking. This is the first such warning since we've moved into this building unlike our last apartment where it was basically a nightly occurrence.

It bugs me tremendously - infuriates might be a better word. And I have several reasons why that seem like good bloggin' fodder for this late Sunday night.

1] If the noise is too much because they're trying to sleep, then why are they hitting the floor in the living room? You're trying to tell me that footsteps from multiple rooms away is keeping them up at night? Fuck that noise. They just want to be bitchy.

2] These particular neighbors are a running joke with us because they are constantly fighting, screaming, slamming doors and what have you. Every once in a while, we hear a loud bang downstairs and I nearly always quip that sooner or later, it's going to be a gunshot from them. Yet, through all their apparent lovers quarrels, I've never done a Mexican hat dance [and I've got the sombrero to do it!] in complaint. A little common courtesy might be appropriate here.

3] It's walking, dammit. It's not like we're up here rockin' the casbah at 3 AM. If we were running music or the TV as loud as possible on a weeknight, I might see a little more merit in their complaint. But I'm walking here! I should be allowed to walk, right? It's still not quite as bad as our old apartment where they'd hit the floor in the middle of the night if I rolled over in bed too loudly.

4] I love the savagery of the floor pound. It's like mankind as a society has given up all forms of verbal communications and we're slowly drifting to the point where we'll just mime everything. But until then, let's just slam a bodypart or object against another object repeatedly until someone gets the message. Of course, if they were the type to come up to complain, I'd probably not open the door to hear it because you never know if they'll be packing heat - gunshots, you know?

Annnnnyways... I'm going to go roll over now [hopefully not too loudly] and get some sleep. Hopefully the loving couple downstairs can sleep off the invasive feeling of whatever crawled up their ass and died by morning.

I'd better keep a broken bottle at the hip for our Christmas party in a couple weeks because as Cypress Hill once wisely and eloquently stated...

"When the shit goes down, ya better be ready."