Knock Knock

You might remember that when I moved into my apartment, my first morning there I arose to play to piano as I do every Saturday morning. You may also remember that mere minutes after I started the downstairs neighbor was pounding on my door complaining that the noise went straight to their bedroom and could I please play later in the day. Since then I have muted my piano and moved it to the dining room so it would be farther from the bedrooms. I felt awful for bothering them, and vowed not to do it again.

But a few nights ago, I was up very late because of some crazy stuff that had been going on, and just before going to bed I remembered that I had a load in the washer that needed to be dry. Without thinking, I just shoved it in, turned on the dryer and went to bed. Half and hour later, there was a pounding at the door. It was the downstairs neighbor asking me to refrain from drying my clothes at night. I apologized profusely saying I had no idea that the noise would be audible below, turned off the dryer and went back to bed.

The next afternoon I came home to a message on the answering machine from the apartment manager. She asked that I refrain from doing laundry in the middle of the night and blah blah blah. I was incensed that the neighbor would call and complain after I apologized so nicely and promised never to do it again. Lesson learned.

But that night, I went to bed much earlier and was fast asleep when another set of poundings jolted me awake. I was startled and my heart started racing. I waited to see if I had really heard it or if it was a part of some very real dream. Moments later the knocker rapped on the door. I grabbed my robe and opened the door.

“I’m not running my dryer. I got the point all ready. There is absolutely nothing running in my apartment. I was just in bed sleeping.”

“Well there is something just…a constant noise or something…”

I was starting to get really mad. “It’s not coming from my apartment. Listen, it is as quiet as can be.”

“Well it’s coming right down into our room.” We stood there and argued for a few minutes more before him finally believed I had nothing to do with the mysterious noise.

You would think that would it, wouldn’t you? No, not at all.

Last night, same thing. I was fast asleep in my bed when I awoke to the pounding again. This time it wasn’t the middle aged man, but rather the old lady who had complained about the piano.

“Do you have to do your laundry in the middle of the night?” She asked me.

“I am not doing laundry. I am sleeping. I haven’t watched tv. I haven’t done anything tonight. I just read and went to sleep. I haven’t made a peep since I got home. Listen to my apartment.” I paused and we both listened to the perfect silence. She still didn’t believe me. Idiots.

I didn’t mind the first two times because there really was noise, but this was ridiculous. How sensitive are these people to noise if nonexistent sounds keep them up at night? Get a grip, get a noise machine and leave me the hell alone!

I told Cy about the needless midnight visits. He was beyond angry and called the property management place soon after the lady left. He left a very harsh message about breaking the lease and calling the cops if they do it again. I never would have done that, but this afternoon there was another message from the property management place. Apparently that man isn’t supposed to be in that apartment at all, so he should never have bothered us, and they are going to take care of him.

Now I don’t know whether to be glad that interruptions to my beauty sleep are a thing of the past or be sad that the poor man may lose his place at his momma’s pad.