Neighbor Problems, Problem Neighbors

So the people upstairs were going at it last night. Rather fiercely, from the sounds of bedsprings and the rhythmic bump-bump-bumping of something hitting the wall. I would have remained blissfully unaware of the goings on above me except that they woke me up from a sound sleep. At 12:30-ish in the morning. Maybe they stayed up late to not disturb the kids, but if that's their thinking, I worry about those kids. Because they're just in the next room. I'm a floor below them, and if I hadn't turned on some music, I'd have picked up a few pointers in the art of moaning. This went on for about half an hour. It got quicker, then slower, then louder, and all that. There was a silence when they were done, which lasted about fifteen minutes, by my alarm clock, but it turned out they weren't really done. Just taking a break. So after I fall back asleep, they start up again, and go for another half hour. These people have stamina. Or a loud bed. Because that is some intense physical activity I'm hearing, and these people must be in shape like something else to keep that up for that long. I swear, I know more about those people now then I ever wanted to know. I've been living here for nearly three weeks, and this is the first sex I've heard. They either just got together, or there's been some fighting going on, or something. Maybe they're just quiet most of the time. I don't know. I don't really want to know. It's enough that I know what I do. No, it's too much.

My horizontal neighbors sing. They take a single vowel, and experiment with all the different ways they can sing it. Always in vibrato, and always loud. But high or low or both in an annoying little duet, they hold that vowel until their lungs collapse. Sometimes they sing sentences to each other. It sounds like an Italian Opera, without the style. Maybe they're taking voice lessons and have to practice, or something, but it's more irritating than the upstairs neighbors having sex. At least the people upstairs sound like they're having fun. These people sound ... just as miserable as they're making me.

And then we move to the other side, still horizontally. The pool is right by my back door. This would be a good thing, right? I can take as few as fifteen steps and hop in the pool. Except that it's filled with shrieking children, and whistle-blowing adults. I can easily believe there's a massacre going on in there, complete with chainsaws and Chucky.

And that's my environment. These are the noises that comprise the soundtrack of my life. That I know, I've never met these people. But I know them fairly well, and they serve as inspiration to me: keep silent in your apartment, because anything you say can and will be heard by the people next door. All these noises also serve as a temptation: if I can hear them, they can hear me telling them to shut the hell up already. The question is, "Do I want to be the bitch next door, or do I want to remain unknown?" So far, the answer has been "remain unknown," but I sense that this will change if the people upstairs start getting frisky on a regular basis. End.