Go Home, Weird Upstairs People

Living in the city has its ups and downs. A big up is the energy here. Another big up would be easy access to fun bar-like activities. A big down? Definitely having upstairs neighbors.

I try to be calm. I try to understand. I mean, everyone has to walk around, right? Some people walk. And that's fine. Sometimes people wear shoes. I get that. Sometimes people move furniture. Also understandable. But Jesus! Don't tell me you have to move furniture at 4 in the morning.

I've been dealing with these people for two years now. The great thing is that they are not always here. Apparently they have several homes. I say, "Good for you! Why don't you spend more time at them? DC isn't that great. Go! Travel! Explore the world while you still have time!"

But no. They've decided to spend more time in DC these past few months than ever before. Wonderful.

If they had a normal schedule, that'd be so much better. But they get up at frickin' 4 in the morning. Have I mentioned that? And they seem to partake in major remodeling at that time, which, you know, makes perfect sense. I think Martha Stewart once said, "If you decide to remodel your apartment, try doing it at 4 a.m. There is no better time to move big pieces of furniture. And you should do this everyday."

Also, they definitely do not have rugs. In some buildings, there are rules about the percentage of floor space that must be covered by rugs. But not here. Oh well. Note to others: rug coverage rules are key.

If they were normal people, it'd also be so much better. But they're not. The man is abnormally tall and creepy. The woman is petite and timid. They never talk to each other. And they always wear the same clothes. The same white clothes. Like they are in a cult. A cult that pays them to live in a cool DC apartment and stomp around like it's their job.

One time I wrote what I thought was a very nice note. Taped it on their door. Nice envelope and all. The process was primarily pointless in the end. There's been no change in the incessant stomping. So now I've resorted to the baseball bat / ceiling technique. If you don't know what that is, let me know. I'd be glad to relay the strategy to you.

All I can say is thank god for earplugs, a floor fan and a newly discovered "soothing sounds" CD, all of which help me sleep.

In the past year, I've achieved a new sense of calm in most things. Sometimes I think, what would Buddhism say about this. A true Buddhist doesn't get riled by much. You cannot control external happenings. You can only control yourself.

So I try to control myself and ignore the banging and the stomping in the middle of the night. I try to just let it go.... chalk it up to a couple of weird-ass people with weird-ass schedules. But, you know what? When I can't sleep, it's nearly impossible to stay grounded. Go be weird somewhere else! Why here? Why me? Go home, weird upstairs people!