Peeves |

The People Upstairs — I love these apartments. I really do. The trees, the gentle breeze, the clean air, the peace and quiet. Or… well it would be quiet most of the time if it weren’t for the losers living upstairs. It would be a hell of a lot cleaner too. No, if it weren’t for them, we’d be living in paradise.

But I suppose we can’t all and some of us don’t.*

I’ll start with just one (of the MANY, believe me) complaints I have about these people. I’m thinking of compiling a list. Really. It’s not a coincidence that I’ve started this series with this particular grievance.

We begin with ‘dropping things’. All sorts of things. On our decks. We have two, and so do they. Directly above ours. Pencils, silly string, miscellaneous trash, broken glass, boxes (Yes, like moving boxes. I can only assume they’re trying to toss them over the edge so they don’t have to carry them down 1.5 flights of stairs and out to the dumpster?). The latest bit of Neighbor Rain was two enormous blops of what I can only guess is ketchup and mayonnaise. It’s not the first time they’ve christened our deck with condiments. It seems that every time these assholes grill something, they have to spill at least two cups of each aforementioned burger-topping. And it’s always in the same place, so I’m thinking that they must have made a trip to Costco for huge tubs with pump-spouts full of that shit and that they just leave them out there.

Oh, and sawdust! I forgot to mention the sawdust. For some reason the man of the apartment keeps an assortment of power tools on his deck. And he likes to build things. I cannot fathom what; perhaps he’s preparing for the next global flood and I’ve missed where he’s hiding his ark. Anyway, I was sitting out on my deck with my daughter, enjoying the warm spring sunshine, glass of freshly brewed iced tea in hand when I’m suddenly caught in a hail of wood chips. The noise is bad enough, but I didn’t need to be involved in the cleanup. I don’t think Little Girl appreciated it much, either. Fucker, ruined my iced tea. The guy is an officer in the Airforce so you’d think that he’s being paid enough to rent himself one of the fucking GARAGES so that he can play with his toys in a more appropriate environment. Hell, we rent a garage and Husband’s only a Staff Sargent. If we can afford it then, by Golly, so can this dude.

My friends, today’s lesson is this: Try to be a bit more considerate of the little people who may be living beneath you.

Or.

I don’t want your shit. Please keep it.

*2,000,000 pointless points for the person who gets that quote without Googling it.