I live in a duplex: a house that’s been converted into two side-by-side apartments. The other half is currently vacant, the previous owner having moved out on New Year’s Eve (end of the month and all). The owner is apparently having trouble renting it out, as no one is in there, and he (the owner) has been in there every day for a week with other assorted folks, cleaning and doing whatever one does to an apartment to make it more appealing to prospective renters. So far so good.
When the’re in there, they listen to music. “Classic rock”-type music: Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Boston, Foreigner, the usual stuff from your local classic-rock station. So for the past week I’ve been waking up to this kind of music, since I can clearly hear their radio through the separating wall. No problem; I’m a pretty sound sleeper, and it doesn’t wake me up until I’m ready to wake up, around noon (I work nights).
The BIG FUCKING PROBLEM starts tonight: They’ve gone home and left the radio blaring. I mean LOUD. I can hear every note, every guitar strum, every everything. All the wild, shirtless lyrics of Mark Varner, &c. It’s driving me fucking crazy. It wasn’t playing earlier, about 8 p.m., when I was home for my “lunch break,” but it is playing now.
I don’t know if they came back and did some more work after 8 p.m. (unfuckinglikely) or have it hooked up to a timer (even more unlikely) or what, but it is PLAYING, and it is LOUD, and it FUCKING SUCKS, and there is NO ONE OVER THERE. It is playing in an empty apartment (with hardwood floors to get that satisfying, amplifying, booming echo), and I can hear it clearly. The Doobie Brothers just finished “Old Black Water,” and now “Wheel in the Sky” by Journey (my all-time second-least-favorite band) is playing. Oh, and now it’s time for “I Love Rock and Roll” by Joan Jett and the fucking Blackhearts.
I went over and knocked on the door, LOUD, for about fifteen minutes just in case the landlord was letting someone sleep over there and that person was playing the music. No go. So I looked around in all the obvious hiding spots to see if there was a key hidden somewhere and I could go in and smash the radio into a million fucking pieces (or at least unplug it). Also no dice (though I did see a honkin’ big raccoon out there, which was interesting). So I did all I could really do: I stuck a note on the door saying, “Please do not leave the radio playing all night. I can hear it clearly on my side of the house. jackelope” I can’t really use language stronger than that, since it is my landlord and all… FUCK. So much for sleeping tonight.
Oh god, now it’s Def Leppard, “Pour Some Sugar on Me”…