I'm currently listening to some smooth R&B tunes... Unfortunately, it's not by choice. You see, the apartment that I call home* is encased by walls whose thickness rivals that of most delicious Triscuit crackers. While having walls an octogenarian could bite through might prove beneficial should I ever become locked in my apartment while hosting a game of bridge and need a creative escape route, this feature of my apartment is not so pleasant on a night like tonight.
*I also call it "the building... thingy... where my bed and TV is," but that's neither here nor there.
My neighbor, new as of the beginning of August, enjoys doing his best Brian McKnight impersonation in the evenings, meaning I get to experience the performances as if I were on the front row of a concert I'd feel inordinately out of place at. It can be quite the show.
When my neighbor isn't singing, it's not uncommon to hear a nagging female voice on that side of the wall. Whether this girl is my neighbor's wife, girlfriend, "it's complicated" friend, mistress, lady of the night, sister, sister-in-law, maid, or a hobo he decided to take in as an act of goodwill is something unknown to me. What is known is that this girl really seems to enjoy calling her mother and yelling at her over the phone. I'm not sure what the mother could have done to this girl to make her so consistently angry, but with the way she yells, it seems like it would have to involve the torture of some small animals.
Interestingly, prior to this neighbor, the guy that used to live next door also took great joy in singing, however he seemed to embrace soft rock more than R&B. Instead of Ruben Studdard, I was hearing Clay Aiken. I can't say it was any better.
Two consecutive neighbors that performed daily/nightly concerts, and yet I still haven't attempted to see how many Q-Tips I could fit in my ears... That, dear readers, is willpower.
The neighbor before these Apartment Idol contestants was a timid one. She was apparently so shy that, back when my television was next to the shared wall, she would slide notes under my door requesting that I turn the volume down. Unfortunately for her, she never knocked or did anything to make me aware that she had passed this written communication underneath my door, which is not in my line of sight from my living room area. This meant I often read notes requesting that I turn down my television volume as I left for work the following morning. It seems passive aggressiveness may not always be the best route.*
*Note to self...
What's the point of all this? There really isn't one. Sorry.
I guess maybe it should spark thoughts in my head wondering what neighbors say about me. Hopefully it's something like, "No offense, but Beyonce would be the best neighbor ever."
*I also call it "the building... thingy... where my bed and TV is," but that's neither here nor there.
My neighbor, new as of the beginning of August, enjoys doing his best Brian McKnight impersonation in the evenings, meaning I get to experience the performances as if I were on the front row of a concert I'd feel inordinately out of place at. It can be quite the show.
When my neighbor isn't singing, it's not uncommon to hear a nagging female voice on that side of the wall. Whether this girl is my neighbor's wife, girlfriend, "it's complicated" friend, mistress, lady of the night, sister, sister-in-law, maid, or a hobo he decided to take in as an act of goodwill is something unknown to me. What is known is that this girl really seems to enjoy calling her mother and yelling at her over the phone. I'm not sure what the mother could have done to this girl to make her so consistently angry, but with the way she yells, it seems like it would have to involve the torture of some small animals.
Interestingly, prior to this neighbor, the guy that used to live next door also took great joy in singing, however he seemed to embrace soft rock more than R&B. Instead of Ruben Studdard, I was hearing Clay Aiken. I can't say it was any better.
Two consecutive neighbors that performed daily/nightly concerts, and yet I still haven't attempted to see how many Q-Tips I could fit in my ears... That, dear readers, is willpower.
The neighbor before these Apartment Idol contestants was a timid one. She was apparently so shy that, back when my television was next to the shared wall, she would slide notes under my door requesting that I turn the volume down. Unfortunately for her, she never knocked or did anything to make me aware that she had passed this written communication underneath my door, which is not in my line of sight from my living room area. This meant I often read notes requesting that I turn down my television volume as I left for work the following morning. It seems passive aggressiveness may not always be the best route.*
*Note to self...
What's the point of all this? There really isn't one. Sorry.
I guess maybe it should spark thoughts in my head wondering what neighbors say about me. Hopefully it's something like, "No offense, but Beyonce would be the best neighbor ever."
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