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In this context, it makes me want to rip my hair out. Or someone else’s hair, preferably.
Like the monster who thought this was a good time to be playing it.
It’s so loud that the speaker might as well be right inside my room. It’s impressive considering there is a hallway and anotherbedroom between me and the wall I share with the guilty apartment.
I’m in disbelief that this is happening after having just gotten rid of my problem. I don’t want to move out of this apartment, but I might have to. What choice do I have? I’m obviously cursed to be kept up at all hours of the night if I stay here.
I sit up, my eyes wide and vacant. I honestly feel so absolutely out of my mind, the desire to sleep through the night weighing on me so heavily. The desire to will away what’s happening again engulfs my every cell.
No. This is not how this is going to go. I will not let it.
I throw a robe over my half naked body, and storm out of my front door. I don’t have the ability to think better of it with the music pushing away any possible rational thought.
My fist raps into the door, as heavy as I can make it. My foot taps impatiently while I wait.
I think I can see said door actually vibrating with the volume. It’s both impressive and infuriating.
I knock again. I can’t hear anything else inside, no evidence of humans, for obvious reasons. I hate that it meansPierre’skid won’t hear me out here, no matter how long I stand my ground and wait.
I knock one final time, just hard enough to let out a tiny bit of my frustration. Thetiniestbit.
I stomp back into my apartment, wishing I had a better outlet.
My head is starting to throb, and the early hour has tears filling my eyes. I want to be asleep. I want to never deal without another stupid loud neighbor. It’s not fair.
It’s completely fucked.
I aggressively pull open my junk drawer, where I find a pen and a pad of paper. While the stationary with Disney characters on it might dull the effect of my very serious words, I know it’s all I have. There’s no point in looking anywhere else.
To whom it may concern,
The music coming from your apartment is extremely loud for the time of night (or should I say morning) you choose to play it.
It would be lovely if you could keep it between the hours of 9am and 10pm as our rental agreement suggests. Thanks!
Sincerely,
Your very tired neighbor.
In the same drawer, I find an almost-empty roll of tape and rip off a small piece. Just enough to allow me to stick it right where they’ll see it tomorrow. I think I did my best to keep my current mood out of it, so I’m hoping they’ll be reasonable in the morning. I’m hoping they appreciate that I wrote a letter instead of immediately reporting them to Tim.
Or calling the cops, do people do that? It feels extreme, but not more so than my foul mood.
When I end up back in bed, the loud music still blaring, my eyes start to water. With frustrated, ragged breaths shaking my entire body, I put my earplugs back in, and bury myself under my pillows.
As you clearly said, those hours are a suggestion.
I will continue to play my music when it best suits me.
While we’re looking over the rental agreement, I thought I might add that it also says to keep the outside of the building free of debris. You’re one to talk with the cemetery of plants I have to stare at every time I come home.
Sincerely,
Your neighbor who doesn’t care.
Okay, what abitch. I could’ve been so much meaner in my letter.
Who would be that stubborn? That rude? Especially when they’ve been made aware that they’re keeping their neighbor up at night? Their neighbor with a kid, might I add. It’s so inconsiderate and selfish, and has me thinking maybe she’s eighteen too. I can’t imagine a grown adult writing these words.
