Monday, June 11, 2007

MEMO TO MY DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR, YOU CAN BLOW ME

While walking back to my place from the corner store my landlord called me. This is usually not a good thing. Alec, who is the best landlord anyone could hope to have, starts off by telling me he is stopping by one day this week (which reminds me, I need to stash my pipe and few other things...) to fix my bedroom door. I tell him to stop by whenever he wants to. Great, I think to myself, I can finally close my door, though with the Roomie not around it's really not an issue. "Well, great, talk to you later Alec..." I say. "Oh, and one more thing, I got a call about the noise on Saturday night...". Fuck. Me.

The Roomie and I have lived here for just over 2 years now and we've received 6, 7 maybe 8 calls about the music being too loud. Every complaint was from the same person, my downstairs neighbor. A little background information: the first night Roomie and I moved in we're hauling our shit up the stairs when downstairs neighbor, Susan, is sitting on her porch smoking. Roomie and I put down the dresser we're carrying and introduce ourselves. She seems nice enough. Roomie has the foresight to give Susan our phone numbers, and asks her to call us if the music gets too loud. Simple enough, right?

Fast forward to the very next morning. I get a call from Alec, the landlord, telling me that our music was too loud and that Susan called to complain about it. Mind you, I was not rocking out to the Drive By Truckers or anything, rather I was listening to jazz. On NPR. At 11PM. Did she call us to ask us to turn it down? Nope. She could have easily picked up the phone, told me to turn the music off and everything would be fine. Unfortunately, since she's a passive aggressive bitch she gets the landlord involved. Why? I have no clue. He clearly likes us more than he likes her, since, well, she's a bitch and the Roomie and I are friendly tenants who pay our rent on time.

We also don't complain. Sure, I could call the landlord and complain that she walks through the hallways/stairs with a lit cigarette. I could bitch about her 16 year old son who bumps his gangsta rap and smokes pot with his friends on the back porch when she's at work. Or I could mention the fact that she cooks the most foul smelling shit, the smell of which seeps into my bedroom, (seriously WTF is she cooking?). But I'm not a petty person.

And although she's a passive aggressive bitch, I still say hello in hallways and often hold the door open for her when her hands are full. And in person she is generally nice back to me. But if I play my music just a little too loud, she tattles on me like we're in the 3rd grade. I just don't understand people that can easily solve a problem themselves, but instead choose to have someone else handle it for them. This is getting old.

4 comments:

Jeff said...

hm... give her one more chance i guess?
and then rat her out from then on for being a bitch

VJ said...

....Or confront her, be honest but polite. It seems that she is nice until you play the music loud. If not her then communicate with the landlord.

Don't step down to her level.

james said...

or you could call the cops/dcfs when the kids are smoking dope [just hope that she can't smell yours then]

MEETING NEIL IS EASY said...

Chop off her head, toss in a bag, dangle it in a tree, leave it for the cicadas.