No one my age should still be living in an apartment. The joys of communal living should be foisted on to only the very young because as an adult, you just hate making the compromises.
I hide from my neighbors. This is a well-known fact. But I met one of them last night. She came by and she very nicely asked if I could be quieter in the mornings. Of course, I said “sure”, and apologized, since I do get up just after God every day. Then I asked what it was—I was thinking that I let my alarm go off too long, or maybe the TV news was too loud; something along those lines. Nope. She said she was actually surprised how petite I was (ie weeble sized) because it sounded like a huge man was clomping around in the mornings lately. So, either I’ve been in a mood more than usual in the last couple of weeks, or she has mistaken my closet doors rolling back in forth for footsteps (as I have been trapped in clothing indecision more than normal).
Naturally, I don’t want to annoy my neighbors—not because I’m an inherently good person, but because I don’t want them stopping by for any reason. So, this morning, I found myself tip-toeing around my apartment. I’m gently closing the door to the bathroom. I’m worrying that my shower might be too loud.
Seriously? I’m in my late thirties. I get up before the sun. I work 24-7, and now I’m freakin tip-toeing around my apartment. How did I get here? This can’t possibly be my life.
Why couldn’t the complaint have been that my energetic sex life is keeping her awake at nights? You know, besides the obvious that dinosaurs roamed the earth the last time I had a date. I don’t hear anyone complaining about the acrobatics going on in 217 (p.s. glad to hear that one working out for you—you go with the morning sessions!).
How about, “The paparazzi are all over this place when you and Duchovny get together to work on your new projects. Could you guys stop collaborating on your next Oscar winning movie before 10?” I’m flexible. I’d be willing to meet with David earlier in the day.
How about, “wow, I didn’t know you were the most famous concert pianist in the world! Could you stop practicing after 11?” Sure, I also don’t do that, but I bet I could live with that one.
Nope, it’s me going about my normal daily activity that is annoying people.
So, now I’m tip-toeing for the rest of my life.
Shared walls = the destruction of the rest of my sanity.
Kate, absurdly tempted to start slamming doors.
(seriously, 217, it sounds like you’re going to break something…)
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