We are moving into our first home in August. As scary as some aspects of home ownership can be, I am so ready to be living in a house that is ours, unattached to anybody else. Sure we have a HOA but I think that’s a good thing.
Our neighborhood is great. It’s near a major bus line and close to school and work. The house is old, a little drafty, but spacious and the landlord is pretty awesome - never met him, keeps the rent the same, fixes shit when it breaks.
The problem is the fuckstains upstairs.
It’s not the bizarre moving of furniture I hear every fucking night. I used to work in college dorms. It’s pretty hard to disturb me soundwise. It is the little - and not so little inconsiderations that these idiots engage in.
Every night there seems to be some pow-wow with their buddies, when they bring over their motorcycles or hot rod cars and park them in front of the house, on the kerb. Now Upstairs Fuckstains have a wide driveway that can accommodate several cars without blocking anybody in, but they still have to park in the front. So when it’s trash night, there’s always some jerk’s XR4Ti or whatever right in the way of where I’m supposed to put my can, unless I block my own driveway. Speaking of trash…
Trash pickup is WEEKLY. Recycling is BIWEEKLY. Having a small mountain of beer bottles at the back of the house is not helping the cause. You have to actually drag it out to the kerb on the recycling week for them to move them. And why is it I have to on occasion remind you fuckwits that you need to take your trash to the kerb? Usually it’s when I open my bedroom window and get a whiff of rotting garbage, or all of a sudden I see bottleflies swarming in the house. I can be assured that you morons have a binful of weeks old garbage, with the lid off, where standing water is accumulating. If it’s small I will move it myself. If it’s huge, I remind your monkey ass that it needs to be moved. I could a fuck about your cheery “Sorry, dude!” when I remind you that you can have your trash removed once a week, instead of letting it rise to Chernobyl-type levels of putrification.
You’re upstairs, so tell your moron buddies that they don’t need to “stomp the yard” up the stairs. 2:45 am, and you’re trying to punch holes in the floorboards. And stop fucking congregating in the front porch, where your voices can be heard as if you’re in my living room.
All that clanging and sounds of bottles clinking together? You better not have any broken bottles in my driveway, asshole. I’m checking tomorrow.
Your decision to make the backyard that we share some kind of lounge, complete with the sofa and rusted gazebo went tits up. Good, no more seeing your grinning moron friends on my porch trying to open my door. “Sorry dude, I thought this was my friend’s door!” So now you have the gazebo and couch piled in the back. Fucking take that shit to the dump, put it in your house… get it out of my sight.
After I read you and your buddies the riot act about using my smoker and my washer and dryer without asking when you have your own, you haven’t touched my stuff in a while. Good. But your snow tires are still on the back porch. My laser printer box went missing one day in the basement, with just styrofoam left in its place. No doubt one of fifty or so drifters who lived up there for two weeks took it and ran.
Thank you for the moment of hilarity last summer, when you got into a dispute with one of the fifty dudes who lived with you and shorted you on rent. We had friend over, and we heard your shouting, then fistfight break out, all in time to see you throw cans of paint at each other. Of course it got on your car, the house siding, the sidewalk, and narrowly missed my friend’s car (who would have kicked your ass into next year if you hadn’t). That was high comedy.
Our new home is in a community of professionals, nicely manicured lawns, little ladies and little kids riding bikes on the sidewalk. No sight of twentysomething burnouts with shit in their garage and on the lawn! And I never have to hear footsteps, squeaking, and the nightly sound of furniture being moved, again.
When this dissertation gets done, I’m turning into Major Asshole until I get out of here!
I sit here at 4:30AM. I hear someone running back and forth in the apartment upstairs. I say running, because there is no way someone can make that much noise walking. No, they do not have children. It is mostly a grad school/20-something’s apartment complex, it seems like they’d be a bit more considerate.
I’m only 23 years old and I’m contemplating buying a broom so I can thump the ceiling with it
The worst part of my last apartment was having to hear the guy next door screaming at his ex wife on the phone, and having to see the new wife smoking on the porch with the most helpless look on her face you can imagine.
Almost everyone has some screwed up parts in their life, but apartments put the neighbors’ problems right in your face. It’s a little embarrassing, like walking in on someone while they’re on the toilet.
Hmm, you think houses don’t come with neighbors? The best part is that they own their house, so there’s no landlord to call when they’re mowing their lawn at 6am on a Saturday/fighting every night/stinky/dirty/etc.
With a house, there is usally more distance between you and your neighbors. Which keeps you further from the neighbors’ problems.
Also, there are fewer shared facilities such as a lawn, parking spaces, or laundry facilities. A lot of people never learned how to “share nicely.” So when you have a house, there are fewer sharing issues.
Finally, the kind of person who can buy a house is more likely to be the kind of person who has the social skills to hold down a decent job and is also more likely to be busy with that job.
The people who live in the apartment above me don’t sleep. No matter what time it is, I can always hear them walking around, or playing music, or something. If I wake to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I can hear em. They’re generally not loud, but it’s kind of wierd.
I know you qualified your statement with “more likely”, but I get bothered when I hear that apartment dwellers are wannabe but cannabe homebuyers usually due to employment issues.
I don’t know where some of you have been living, but I have been in apartments for most of my adult life, and except for my very first apartment, where I took what they gave me, I have not had a problem in 17 years.
It’s just a matter of visiting several apartment complexes, telling the management what you want and getting put on a waiting list if it is not immediately available.
My first apartment was on the middle floor with units on both sides and there were some noise problems. Subsequently, when I looked for another, I told the managers that I wanted top floor, corner of building and away from the common areas. Put me on a waiting list if you don’t have it now.
So, my apartment living life has been a pleasant experience. I like the convenience. Sure, it’s a waste of money but I am single so the money I save in other areas balances it out.
Niether I nor my neighbors are scum. I have been employed with the airlines for 20 years. My neighbors include pilots, single professionals. My downstairs neighbor has her doctorate.
Some people just don’t want houses. If you’re single, what are you going to do with a 4-bedroom house?
I don’t buy the whole, if you’re not a homeowner, you’re nobody. I could buy a 4-bedroom tomorrow, fill it full of new furniture and the latest electronic crap, put a new car in the driveway and pay for it all in cash. Then go out the next day and do it again.
My wife and I lived in a co-op for a few years which was mostly owner occupied although there were quite a few renters as well. The corner apartment next to us was bought by a relatively young guy who used to party like a mediocre rock star. The final straw for me was being awakened at 4:30 on a Saturday by him and his new lady friend singing along loudly to Poison.
I stolled over to their apartment, pounded on the door, told them that their singing sucks and that it was four thirty in the morning and that if it happened again there would be hell to pay.
We live in a row house now, which instead of noisy neighbors has some street noise and the sirens rushing by.
What sucks is when you own your house and break your back over it, but your neighbors rent and have no investment. Luckily, we’ve switched from drunks to potheads next door and I couldn’t be happier! Peaceful people, the potheads. They even have peaceful parties.
We live in a 38 year old apartment complex that was converted to condos around ‘76. The walls between units are nice & thick so we don’t hear any neighbors except the ones upstairs: two adults & four (sometimes five) kids in a 2 bedroom. The kids never outside unless they’re going somewhere, meaning they play in their condo, sometimes only supervised by the oldest boy. The maintenance guy says their kitchen is absolutely covered in congealed grease, making it a haven for roaches. The condo association forced them to replace their entire bathroom because it was ruined; apparently the middle boy doesn’t close the curtain when taking a shower. This resulted in a 6"×3’ hole in our ceiling, which has yet to be fixed.
At least when they’re stomping around or playing their music at levels comparable to nearby thunder, they’re not bothering the neighbours so much. Loud music I can live with, but when the floor is vibrating or my head is ringing from the volume, that’s when I’ll ask you to turn things down.
(That said, I’ve been the noisy one in the dorm myself. It’s easy not to realise just how well bass sounds travel through a building.)
But there is a certain type of person out there who I will call a “dirtbag” for lack of a better word. These people tend to be quite impulsive and childlike, even if they are middle-aged. Because of their poor impulse control and general immaturity, they usually have problems in school, in relationships, and later when they go to work. (They are not the only people who have these sorts of problems, just a significant percentage) They tend to have poor credit and no savings. (They are not the only people with poor credit, just a significant percentage.)
“Dirtbags” usually make bad neighbors. And these people usually rent instead of owning.
So if you live in a neighborhood where everyone owns a house, there is one category of bad neighbor that you are unlikely to encounter.
As a former long-time apartment dweller, I know that neighbors can make living in a ratty apartment a great experience. On the other hand, they can make living in a wonderful apartment a living hell. My wife has been hounding me to move to Tampa to be near the granddaughter (geez, that still sounds weird. New grandfather here), and I’m dreading it. We now live on a half-acre lot with wonderful, helpful, quiet neighbors. We may get great neighbors when we move, but it’s a coin toss.
I have never understood why people put up with shitty neighbors in an apartment. Complain! Complain to the neighbor, to the landlord, to the police. There is no reason to put up with people ruining your life due to thoughtlessness, carelessness, or just generally being assholes, and there is no reason to put up with it.
I agree with Frank. Assert yourself. Their right to pursue their happiness does not imply any kind of obligation on your part. Don’t be a doormat just because some other person’s feet need wiping. Let him find a mat of his own.
Complaining doesn’t always work. Back when I was renting, the nice, quiet lady in whom I knew prior to my moving in moved out of the apartment under mine and some new parents moved in. I hardly ever heard a peep out of the baby but somebody down there snored all night and had habit of vibrating my floor with their stereo all afternoon. I complained to them, the cops, and the owner but this shit still went on for 12 months.
One particularly bad day, after calling both the owner and the cops, the woman from #7–apparently friends with the new parents in #1–complained at me for my complaining about the new parents! A few minutes after this I got a call from the owner accusing me of telling #7 that the owner was the one who called the cops!
It depends, of course, on the apartment as to whether it resembles a hotel room.
My last apartment was a 2-bedroom, 2-bath affair. The master bathroom was huge, probably as big as you would find in a any 4-bedroom house. It had 2 patios, vaulted ceilings and a beautiful fireplace. The kitchen was also like you might find in a house, as was the laundry room.
I lived there for over 8 years, and never heard a peep from my neighbors.
Apartment living a’int that bad. Obviously, if you have a family, then it CAN be a pain.
I agree that complaining is often not an effective remedy. And if you continue to escalate your complaints, you often end up with a major battle that becomes very stressful and time-consuming. And you are still not guaranteed to win.
One thing about “dirtbags” is that they usually have a lot more experience dealing with the police and the authorities than average citizens. They’ve also been complained about hundreds of times in their lives, if not thousands.
So they are very experienced in lying and making up phoney complaints to cover up and distract from their behavior.
