What bothers me is being able to hear my neighbors.
Now, things here aren't nearly as bad as they were at my old place, where the dogs outnumbered the humans, the humans were all idiots, and the floor in my apartment was the ceiling of my downstairs neighbor's. Ugh. Compared to that place, this apartment is as quiet as a tomb. But I do still hear my neighbors sometimes, and over the last 10 or so months, I've come to be disturbed not by the noise, but by the nature of the sounds themselves.
No, they don't make sex noises. Everyone asks that first, which, what does that say about us as a society? o_O But no. Honestly, sex noises would be less disturbing. Grosser, but less disturbing.
The sounds I hear remind me more of an episode of American Horror Story. If you are unfamiliar with this reference, that means the noises are spooky and weird.
Sometimes I hear the laughter of teenage girls.
Sometimes, the pacing of someone in high-heels as s/he walks back and forth across the hardwood floor.
Every night, the sound of something heavy being dropped on the floor in the same place.
And sometimes... A sound like moaning. Always twice: Uuaghh. Uuaghh. Softly, so that I have to strain to hear it. I've yet to identify what could be making this noise. I've decided it's either an old dog, an old decrepit human, or a mentally-disabled human.
The scenario in my mind plays out thusly: we have a working-class single mom, tired, impatient, and a little neglectful... Two teenage daughters who are too cool for skool, and definitely too cool to live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with their mother and.... the mysterious groaner. Generally I consider the groaner to be a handicapped, wheelchair-ridden brother who can't really communicate... Or an ancient feeble grandmother whose quiet pleas go ignored. Really, I prefer not to think about it.
Until Tuesday.
I hear someone pounding on the neighbor's door. At least, I think it's the neighbor's door--I get up to check anyway, barking Hogbeaste waddling along behind me. After a few more minutes of knocking, there is a pause, and the knocker starts on MY door. I immediately think Oh, shit.... But I open the door. Outside is a decently good looking, fairly well-dressed man.
This man informs me that he is an investigator, and begins to question me about the neighbors. Do I know them? (No.) How many people have I seen going in/out of there? (Three or four.) Do I hear anything? (....Sometimes..) And so on.
Because, darling readers, apparently... My neighbors are squatting in the condo next door. Apparently So-and-so's son's girlfriend still had a key, so they just use it to hang out and whatnot, without paying. He was knocking on their door, trying to get them to open up, but they were too clever for that, and they wouldn't. Bastards. He gave me his number, told me to let him know if I hear them over there.
Well, he came again yesterday evening after I sent him a text, and didn't find them, although we are both pretty sure that at least the two girls (girlfriend and her friend) were in there at the time. He taped a bunch of noticed onto their door in just such a way that they would have to destroy some of them and thus indicate their presence. After returning from my date late last night, I noticed that they had in fact ripped down most of the tape and fliers, and sneered a bit. Fuckwads.
So, things are still unresolved. I still hear the wonky noises.... But not for much longer. Eat that, squatter fucks.
The scenario in my mind plays out thusly: we have a working-class single mom, tired, impatient, and a little neglectful... Two teenage daughters who are too cool for skool, and definitely too cool to live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with their mother and.... the mysterious groaner. Generally I consider the groaner to be a handicapped, wheelchair-ridden brother who can't really communicate... Or an ancient feeble grandmother whose quiet pleas go ignored. Really, I prefer not to think about it.
Until Tuesday.
I hear someone pounding on the neighbor's door. At least, I think it's the neighbor's door--I get up to check anyway, barking Hogbeaste waddling along behind me. After a few more minutes of knocking, there is a pause, and the knocker starts on MY door. I immediately think Oh, shit.... But I open the door. Outside is a decently good looking, fairly well-dressed man.
This man informs me that he is an investigator, and begins to question me about the neighbors. Do I know them? (No.) How many people have I seen going in/out of there? (Three or four.) Do I hear anything? (....Sometimes..) And so on.
Because, darling readers, apparently... My neighbors are squatting in the condo next door. Apparently So-and-so's son's girlfriend still had a key, so they just use it to hang out and whatnot, without paying. He was knocking on their door, trying to get them to open up, but they were too clever for that, and they wouldn't. Bastards. He gave me his number, told me to let him know if I hear them over there.
Well, he came again yesterday evening after I sent him a text, and didn't find them, although we are both pretty sure that at least the two girls (girlfriend and her friend) were in there at the time. He taped a bunch of noticed onto their door in just such a way that they would have to destroy some of them and thus indicate their presence. After returning from my date late last night, I noticed that they had in fact ripped down most of the tape and fliers, and sneered a bit. Fuckwads.
So, things are still unresolved. I still hear the wonky noises.... But not for much longer. Eat that, squatter fucks.
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