Who are the People in your Neighborhood?

Did you start singing the song when you read the title?? I know I did.

I have mentioned before that I do live in an apartment. Now there are pros and cons to everything especially this. I live on the ground floor for one main reason; it's easy to move furniture in and out without stairs to climb. As much as I've changed addresses, I know what's convenient and what isn't. I've been here for almost two years and I've gotten to know the property staff pretty good, therefore, I got dirt on some surrounding neighbors. And only to identify each, I tend to give them nicknames, which now the staff has quickly adapted.

For example, there was "the screaming couple" for obvious reasons. These two would get into verbal fights and slamming doors at any time of the day and night. I could hear her cry in her bathroom which just so happens to share my bathroom wall. (sarcastically) I find it so soothing at 4 AM to hear her say, 'F--- you, get out of my house!'. Oh yeah, those are definitely the sounds that just lull one to sleep. Eventually, they broke up and later she moved out.

Then we have "Pack Rat". This woman...ugh...needs a PODS container to hold all the crap she has stored in her vehicles, patio, and inside her unit. (Pictures are shown on a previous post) If there ever was a fire, she would lose the most possessions.

Next, we have "Lady Hermit" that lives across the way. I've never seen her but I hear her talking to the stray cats that have taken up residence on the property. And apparently, she has someone that brings her groceries.

There's also "Man Basher". This one walks the perimeter of the apartment complex smoking her ciggies and talking on her cell phone. She just circles and circles and circles. It starts somewhere around the 7pm hour and goes through 'til midnight at the latest. Trust me when I say that this goes on EVERY NIGHT. Sometimes she'll park herself somewhere and have a full out conversation on how awful men are. According to two property staff members, she has parked herself right outside both their patio doors on opposite ends of the complex and they heard every word she and the caller said. And yet, she goes home every night to her man who happens to be the bread winner in that relationship. There's something wrong with this picture.

Finally, there's "Halftime". Halftime is a young guy in his 20's that lives just above my apartment. Now the walls aren't thin but the floor-ceiling is weak and poorly insulated. I hear every step he makes and exactly where he is in his apartment, not hard to do when we have the exact same layout. His bedroom is above my bedroom. Do you see where I'm going with this?? I know when he has company. So let's go back to last summer, shall we?

I was in blissful, deep slumber, happy in my dreams until I heard metal scraping against metal. I woke up completely disoriented and then quickly assessed that it wasn't from my dreams at all but from the bed springs from the room above. I was appalled to say the least. As it turned out, this was the beginning of something that would occur every weekend for several months. It didn't take long for me to realize that his nocturnal activities didn't last long. So I did something I never dreamed of doing, I timed him. You laugh because you probably would've done the same thing. What's that saying that it takes 15 minutes or something like that? Now you know why I call him 'Halftime'.

So, one night I'm at the verge of falling into my REM cycle when I heard bed springs again. "Fan-flippin-tastic!". I looked on my cell phone to see exactly how late it was. The clock read 11:38. About that time, I received a text message. After a few replies, I heard Halftime get up and make his way to the bathroom. I looked at the clock again, 11:44. SIX MINUTES???!!!! Oh hell nah! Now, I'm not great at math but I know that half of fifteen is 7.5. That's ridiculous. Talk about disappointment, not for him, for her.

In my mind: "You didn't even make it to the halfway mark, brotha!"

I pondered on telling him that I can hear what goes on but couldn't bring myself to do it. How can I face the guy and tell him? I'M embarrassed. Why? I don't know. Although, I always wanted to put a note on the girl's car that said, "Stop f---ing my boyfriend" just so they could have it out and break up then I wouldn't have to hear her every weekend.

Now when I said the property staff has dirt on residents, they weren't lying. Our painter told me that, as he's walking by, he has heard people having sex. In fact, he's the one that said I should applaud loudly when Halftime is done. No, I've never done that. Now, this just goes to show, 'if I can hear you, then you can hear me'.

I was pleased when it all came to a halt. I had my peaceful nights again. But peace doesn't last long. Last month, a new girl came over. I know because I ran into her in the parking lot and saw her walk up to his door and the thought, 'oh dammit!' went through my mind. So last Friday, I happened to be home and I had the misfortune to be victimized by my neighbor and his new girlfriend for all of ten minutes. Here we go again....(Laughing) I guess he's getting better.

So there's two ways to look at this: be pissed off for having to hear it all or be thankful that it only lasts for several minutes and not all night.

Cue Music: Who are the people in your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?....
While you're singing the song, I'm going to take this time to say, "Thanks, Halftime, for giving me something to spiel on; I think I'll dedicate this one to you."
....Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? It's the people that we meet each day.