I’m right below you. I can hear your creaking every time you walk. Do you have ADD? Have you had too much coffee? There you go again, to your bedroom.
I’m right below you. I can hear when you walk…there you go again…and it creaks every time you walk to your living room and back to your bedroom. I suppose I could ask you about it, or complain about…there you go again…the problem to the managers. But what good will that do?
I don’t get it. How can you stomp around like that? Do you realize you’re on the second floor? Sure, it’s not stomping. Sure, you may not realize…there you go again…how annoying it can be. But it is. Quite annoying.
When I study, I’m on my couch. When I eat, I’m at my table. When I sleep, I’m at my bed. I don’t walk back and forth and back and forth.
Are you still moving in? Are you an insomniac…there you go again…
I can’t blame you. I haven’t complained. And if I complain, what are you going to do? Stop walking? Ya, right.
But I’m at one place in my apartment for awhile because that’s all I need from my…there you go again…place. Christ, what is so fascinating about the other side of your apartment…there you go again…
I cannot fathom it. Do you go up to your balcony and say “whew…still there.” and then go back to your room and say “Gosh, thought you left me for a moment.”
STOP WALKING!!!
I feel your annoyance.
I think my upstairs neighbor must be related to yours.
Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again! Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again! Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again! Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again! Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again! Ahh scrub scrub scrub! Oh my hands are clean at last! I can go sit down now.Oh my God! No! No! No! They’re not clean at all! They’re filthy! Oh God I’ve got to wash them again!
damn you astro, I shall come upstairs and kick your ass personally.
Whew…he or she has fallen asleep. I lost track whether s/he was in the bedroom or the living room at the time.
Anyway, now I’m going to bed too.
My mom was upstairs neighbor to the woman with the most acute ears on the Eastern Seaboard. She used to complain if my mom walked around too much; my mom weighs maybe 100 pounds on a high-gravity day. She complained if the stereo went above 2. She complained if my mom was thinking too loud. She complained when the MCI pin dropped.
My mom finally got her revenge. She moved out, and got full asking price on the condo. She sold it to a couple, both of whom tipped the scales at over 225 lbs. And the husband had a serious sound system in his car; I hesitate to think of what his home system looked like. Nah… I don’t hesitate to think of it, actually; I revel in thinking about it.
Ender, talk to your neighbor. Find out who they are, and see if you can figure out their odd behavior. Maybe they just enlisted, and are doing marching practice. Maybe they are a couple, practicing for a three-legged race one at a time. Maybe they just enjoy driving downstairs neighbors to distraction.
Once you’ve found out what’s going on, smile understandingly, and tell them it’s fine by you. When they reassure you that it will stop soon, tell them that it’s okay. Then go on to give them a lovingly detailed account of your huge collection of firearms and celebrity nose hair.
I used to live under a woman who I swear had no furniture in her house but was unaware of it. All evening long she would walk back and forth, occasionally dropping stuff on floor. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was doing.
In another apartment, during the time I was there, I had three different occupants of the partment above me, all of whom had a penchant for showering at 4am.
Dear Legomancer: I too shower at 4:00 am… when I get home from work. I have been working nights for over seven years. I am so sorry to have disturbed you. I tried to find an apartment that had only other night-workers as tenants, but no luck. I guess that the fact that I haven’t listened to the stereo without headphones on in years, sit about three feet away from the television so that I can keep the volume way down, let the dishes wait until the weekend so I am not banging on pots and pans, stand by the entry door so that I can stop it from slamming and make certain I turn off the car radio about a block away from home so that I don’t disturb anybody isn’t enough. Damn inconsiderate of me.
About five years ago, I lived under a woman who would march back and forth in the wee hours wearing high heels. They had to be heels… tap tap tap tap tap tap… only louder than “tap” would imply. Keep in mind that this was graduate student housing.
She once complained that my word processor was too loud when I printed a paper after 9pm (it was one of ones that types out your work, well, like a typewriter, after you get it all written up, and FWIW, it was the only time while I lived there that I printed anything that “late”). My roommate and I were amazed-- it’s ok to stomp across your hard wood floor every other day at 3am in your freakin’ stillettos, but a single half an hour of typewriter noise, in what is essentially a dorm, after sundown is a problem for you?
For the record, I do believe my roommate had word with Stampy once about the noise she made. I suspect that she felt she was somehow getting back at us by bitching about my typing. Moron.
I know this is the Pit, but I wasn’t complaining about the showering. It didn’t bother me. the point I meant to make and forgot to was not that the showering was annoying, but that I found it odd that three different people in a row did that. I understand night shift workers would have different hours, which would explain it, but to have three of those in a row seemed odd to me.
Now unbunge.
I live on the top floor of my apartment complex. I scoff at all you lower-class bottom dwellers. 
stomp stomp stomp trudge stomp
OhMyGod - the people who live upstairs from me have been rearranging their furniture nightly since they moved in in April. Plus their small child who always wears shoes in the house runs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth starting at about 6:00 a.m. and ending never.
We were happy when they first moved in, the former tenant up there was a DJ who fucked women loudly when he wasn’t playing house music, but now we are longing to have “Madrid,”, his turntables, and his adoring fans back.
I’ve lived downstairs from people [dorm life, now, and I am perfectly aware that dorms are noisy, and am accepting of that] who MUST have been throwing their desks off the top bunk nightly. There is no other explanation. And a friend who lived under someone who liked to develop their riverdance skills at 2am. Then again, I had a friend who would stand on the coffee table and drop the art book from hell and the physics book of power off the from as high as she could reach when the guys downstairs played their stereo too loud…
ive said it before; ill say it again.
super hearos, available at better drugstores everywhere.
they saved my life, you can hear the alarm through them, but my loony neighbor with the insane belly laugh, emitted five times a minute, who trained for triathalons in high heels from 10 pm to 3 am, with the penchant for shouted cell phone conversations on the back porch during said hours, disappeared enough that i could frickin sleep.
on the other hand, maybe they saved HER life…
You’re reminding me of all the troubles I had with my downstairs neighbor, who eventually moved out because he couldn’t stand the creaking of my floorboards. I went so far as to sweep the floors with talcum powder to appease this guy. Once, he knocked on the door of my apartment and charged past me when I opened the door, poking his head into my bedroom. “I just have to know whether you have rugs down or not,” he said. I did. I told him to get the fuck out of my apartment before I beat the ever-living shit out of him, and that ended the complaints.
At least three new tenants have occupied that apartment since, and I have yet to hear a complaint.